&f<  of 

> 


GAYLE   LANGFORD 


'YouB  HIGHNESS  FORGETS  HIMSELF  ! "  SHE  SAID,  SHARPLY. 
Page  47. 


GAYLE  LANGFORD 

BEING  THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  TORY  BELLE 
AND  A  PATRIOT  CAPTAIN 


BY 

HAROLD    MORTON    KRAMER 
AUTHOR  OF  "  HEARTS  AND  THE  CROSS  " 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  H.  C.  EDWARDS 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP,  LEE   &  SHEPARD   CO. 


Published,  August,  1907 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY  LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  Co. 


All  rights  reserved 


GAYLE   LANGFOKD 


flortoooH  iJrrss 
Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  "  As  THE  TWIG  Is  BENT  —  "     .          .          .         i 

II.  "  —  THE  TREE  Is  INCLINED"  ...       20 

III.  THE  PRESENT  MEETS  THE  PAST          .          .      43 

IV.  RED  ROSES     ......       66 

V.  THE  CLANG  OF  A  BELL      ....       87 

VI.  PROTECTING  THE  ENEMY  .          .          .          .in 

VII.  WANDERERS    ......     134 

VIII.  A  MAID  AND  A  SONG        ....     159 

IX.  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS      .          .          .180 

X.  AT  THE  RED  Fox  INN      .          .          .          .192 

XI.  THE  SHADOW           .....     214 

XII.  A  MESSAGE  IN  RED         ....     243 

XIII.  THE  KINDLING  OF  A  FLAME      .          .          .     259 

XIV.  A  BIT  OF  NEWS      .....     273 
XV.  IN  WHICH  I  TURN  CLERGYMAN          .          .     286 

XVI.  A  MATCHLESS  MAID        ....     302 

XVII.  "TOOK  KEER  o'  HER  BOY"    .          .          .328 

XVIII.  SETTLING  AN  ACCOUNT     ....      343 

XIX.  INTO  THE  NEW  DAY         ....     362 


2136S83 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  YOUR    HIGHNESS    FORGETS    HIMSELF  ! "    SHE   SAID 

SHARPLY     (See  page  47}  .         .         .       Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

LIFTING  THE   PRINCE   OFF  HIS  FEET,   I   FLUNG  HIM 

HEADLONG  DOWN  THE  STAIRS  .  .  •  .122 
I  SAW  THAT  THE  RIDER  IN  FRONT  WAS  SUPPORTED 

BY  THE  ARMS  OF  THE  ONE  BEHIND  .  .  .  1 86 
"THE  SPY  HAS  BEEN  A -WOOING!  WHERE  THERE'S 

A  ROSE  THERE  HAS  BEEN  A  WENCH!"  .  .212 
"  YOU  HAVE  THE  EFFRONTERY  TO  REPORT  THE  LOSS 

OF  YOUR  DESPATCHES  AND  HAVE  NO  EXCUSE?".  276 
"  OH,  GOD  !  LOOK  OUT,  MARSE  IAN  ! "  .  .  .  334 


GAYLE  LANGFORD 


CHAPTER  I 

"  AS  THE  TWIG  IS  BENT — " 

AS  I  sit  now  in  the  cheerful   glow  of  the 
blazing  backlog  it    seems    that    memory 
was  born  to  me  amid  the  terrors  of  that 
evil  night  —  well,  longer  ago  than  I  like  to  ac- 
knowledge, for  though  gray  locks  and  faltering 
limbs  be  not  a  disgrace,  yet  would  I  fain  hug  to 
my  heart  the  pleasing  delusion  that  Youth  still 
lingers  near  me. 

True,  I  note  an  increasing  affection  for  pipe 
and  ale-mug  and  the  dreamy,  reminiscential 
comfort  of  the  backlog's  ruddy  offering,  but 
even  in  such  moments  I  feel  the  years  slipping 
from  my  shoulders,  and  oft  do  I  return  from 
this  mental  visit  to  bygones  and  find  myself, 
sword  in  hand,  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  lunging, 


2  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

parrying,  the  blade  flashing  with  the  old  fiery 
gleam  in  the  candle-light,  my  wrist  supple  and 
strong,  my  feet  sure  and  shifty.  And  then,  the 
blade  once  more  hung  in  its  honored  niche,  I 
sigh  at  the  age  of  memory. 

But,  in  truth,  no  mother  has  a  more  God-given, 
pain-racked  right  to  hug  to  her  bosom  her  first- 
born than  I  have  to  love  and  cherish  and  coddle 
in  the  firelight's  glow  this  precious  phenomenon, 
memory,  for  the  travails  of  its  birth  left  their 
stamp  upon  me  —  here,  this  jagged  scar  but  illy 
concealed  by  my  forelock,  which  I  have  worn 
low  since  that  night  as  a  matter  of  concealment, 
for  I  confess  to  the  weakness  of  a  pride  in  per- 
sonal appearances.  Some  boasting  Othello  might 
take  pride  in  the  display  of  such  a  souvenir  of 
blood  and  woe,  but  I  prefer  it  to  remain  unseen. 
Perhaps  when  I  lie  in  my  coffin  the  minister  may 
tenderly  brush  back  these  whitened  locks  and 
point  to  this  mutilated  forehead  in  preaching 
to  those  assembled  the  doctrine  of  thankfulness 
and  praise  to  Almighty  God  for  the  blessings  of 
peace  they  enjoy,  the  survey  of  which  should  lead 
them  closer  to  that  Just  One  whose  care  and 
mercy  have  been  manifested  to  me  these  many 
times.  And  if  it  be  true  that  on  occasions,  in  the 
blackness  of  despair,  I  wondered  if  Jehovah  yet 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT-  3 

reigned,  surely  I  may  be  forgiven,  for  did  not 
even  the  Son,  in  the  bitterness  of  crucifixion,  cry 
out  from  the  Cross,  "  My  God,  why  hast  Thou 
forsaken  me?  " 

'Twas  a  night  in  the  year  1764  to  which  I 
referred  in  the  beginning,  and  I  live  again  the 
whole  dreadful  affair;  I  hear  the  swirling  of 
angry  waters,  the  creaking  of  masts  and  spars, 
the  flapping  of  sails,  the  shouts  of  maddened 
men,  and  the  booming  of  cannon.  I  see  the 
lightning's  vivid  flashing,  terrible,  but  less  fre- 
quent than  the  flashing  of  firearms,  and  then  — 

But  I  had  as  well  explain  it  all  to  you  while  the 
mood  is  with  me. 

My  father,  John  MacDonald  Lester,  was  a 
merchant  in  the  city  of  Boston,  and  I  know  now, 
though  I  was  too  young  to  know  then,  that  during 
the  years  of  my  babyhood  he  was  wealthy.  His 
schooners  plied  between  that  city  and  the  West 
Indies,  and  his  trade  in  molasses,  sugar,  wines, 
and  spices  throve  for  a  season.  But  in  1760 
George  Third  ascended  the  throne  of  England, 
and  conditions  in  the  Colonies  rapidly  passed 
from  bad  to  worse. 

He  quickly  surrounded  himself  with  advisers 
whose  conceptions  of  right,  justice,  and  liberty 
were  as  dwarfish  as  his  own.  Under  such  con- 


4  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

ditions  trade  stagnated,  wealth  stole  away  from 
the  homes  where  it  had  snuggled,  and  the  business 
of  John  MacDonald  Lester  was  no  exception. 
Month  by  month  disaster  clawed  at  my  father's 
affairs,  and  I  recall  now  that  in  the  evenings  when 
my  gentle  mother  would  sing  me  to  sleep  my 
drowsy  lids  would  often  fly  open  with  a  sudden- 
ness that  revealed  to  me  truant  tears  escaping 
from  her  eyes.  What  it  all  meant  I  knew  not  then, 
but  I  know  now,  and  I,  myself,  feel  the  agony  of 
mind  that  must  have  been  the  portion  of  my 
parents  during  those  gloomy  days. 

Finally  my  father's  fleet  of  schooners  was  re- 
duced to  one,  the  Eagle,  and  it  was  on  this 
vessel  that  he  embarked  that  June  day,  1764, 
for  a  trading  voyage.  I  was  past  twelve  years  of 
age  then  and  it  was  decided  that  I  was  to  accom- 
pany him,  both  as  a  matter  of  company  to  my 
father  and  in  the  belief  that  the  voyage  would 
bring  to  my  cheeks  once  more  the  color  that  some 
childish  ailment  had  stolen.  Of  that  voyage  but 
little  need  be  said.  Let  it  be  summed  in  the 
statement  that  for  weeks  we  cruised  about  from 
port  to  port,  loading  with  molasses,  wines,  sugars, 
and  other  goods,  the  whole  being  a  matter  of 
never-ending  delight  to  me. 

It  was  on  the  return  voyage  that  life  became 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT  —  "       5 

real  to  me.  We  were  within  but  little  more  than 
a  day's  sail  of  Boston,  and  my  father,  who  had 
neglected  me  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours  and 
had  devoted  himself  to  a  nervous  pacing,  back 
and  forth,  back  and  forth,  of  the  deck,  suddenly 
called  me  to  his  side. 

"  Ian,"  he  said  (My  name  was  bestowed  in 
honor  of  my  rugged  Scotch  grandfather),  "  are 
you  brave?  " 

I  remember  that  I  stared  at  him,  my  eyes 
widening  with  wonderment.  Then  it  occurred  to 
me  that  he  was  but  giving  me  a  test,  so  I  said, 
"  Yes,"  without  further  thought. 

"  Then  keep  your  courage  warm,  for  this  night 
it  will  be  required  of  you,"  he  replied,  and  to  my 
surprise  there  was  no  smile  in  the  taut-drawn 
muscles  of  his  mouth. 

He  looked  me  full  in  the  face  a  moment,  and 
then  with  one  hand  on  my  shoulder  he  pointed 
off  to  leeward. 

"Yonder,"  he  said,  "lies  your  country, 
America.  It  is  the  land  of  your  birth,  the  land 
where  you  have  a  right  under  God  to  pursue 
happiness,  and  in  manhood  provide  for  those  you 
love.  No  king  has  God's  sanction  to  rob  you  of 
your  rights.  I  tell  you  this  in  order  that  you  may 
understand  my  motives  in  what  is  to  come. 


6  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

King  George  has  crushed  our  people  until  poverty 
is  before  me.  By  the  enforcement  of  his  Importa- 
tion Act,  I  will  be  required  to  pay  such  exorbitant 
duties  on  this  cargo  that  but  little  will  be  left  me. 
My  business  has  been  so  wrecked  that  I  find 
that  nothing  will  separate  my  family  from  want 
if  the  King's  officers  get  their  hands  on  this 
cargo." 

He  tramped  away  a  short  distance,  and  then 
turned  once  more  to  me. 

"  Ian,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  had  in  it  a  quality 
of  harshness  I  had  never  heard  there  before. 
"  I  intend  landing  this  cargo  without  paying 
duty." 

During  the  balance  of  that  day  and  night, 
and  much  of  the  next  day,  we  beat  about,  slowly 
approaching  the  coast,  intending  to  make  a  dash 
for  an  inlet  not  far  from  Boston  when  darkness 
should  come.  To  me  my  father  explained  the 
danger  of  detection  and  death  from  the  royal 
sloops  of  war  that  were  constantly  patrolling  the 
coast,  for  he  had  determined  not  to  surrender. 
The  crew  loyally  swore  to  die  at  their  posts  rather 
than  yield,  for  even  then  the  spirit  of  liberty  and 
resistance  to  the  King  was  burning  in  most 
American  breasts. 

As  darkness  came  on  the  clouds  began  banking 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS  BENT.  —  "      7 

on  the  horizon,  and  as  the  last  ray  of  daylight 
faded,  a  tinge  of  copper  spread  over  the  clouds. 
"  A  nasty  night  for  the  job,  sir,"  said  our  sailing- 
master,  but  father  only  nodded  and  continued 
leaning  on  the  rail  and  gazing  at  the  dreary  waste 
of  sea  and  sky.  The  muttering  of  thunder  stole 
to  us  soon,  and  the  wind  began  a  dirge  in  the 
rigging,  but  the  hand  on  the  helm  never  faltered, 
and  straight  for  the  coast  we  sped.  A  torrent  of 
rain  fell  upon  us  and  the  gale  suddenly  freshened, 
so  that  it  became  necessary  to  take  in  a  part  of 
our  sail,  but  even  with  the  small  spread  that 
was  left,  the  Eagle  lurched  and  creaked  and 
shuddered  in  the  grasp  of  the  storm.  And  so 
the  night  came  on. 

It  was  near  midnight,  and  I  stood  on  deck 
clinging  to  a  stanchion,  a  rope  about  my  waist, 
watching  the  struggle  with  the  sea.  Suddenly  a 
light  appeared  to  spring  up  out  of  the  waters 
some  distance  away  on  our  starboard  bow.  We 
were  running  without  lights,  and  though  my 
father  and  the  sailing-master  held  a  hurried 
consultation  regarding  the  vessel  that  had  so 
suddenly  manifested  its  presence,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  hold  on  our  course.  Half  an  hour 
passed,  and  then  the  storm  seemed  to  gather  all 
its  electric  forces  into  one  awful  blaze  of  lightning; 


8  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

the  heavens  were  set  afire  and  the  sea  was  lighted 
up  as  though  the  sun  had  by  a  miracle  burst 
through  from  the  other  side  of  the  world. 

Those  who  were  abroad  on  that  desert  of  water 
stood  revealed  to  each  other.  To  our  straining 
eyes  was  revealed  a  British  sloop-of-war,  probably 
mounting  ten  or  twelve  guns,  pitching  along  about 
half  a  mile  distant  from  us  and  headed  toward 
us,  though  probably  by  accident,  for  it  was  im- 
possible that  they  had  discovered  us  before  that 
moment.  But  now  - 

My  father  shrieked  to  the  sailing-master ;  he  in 
turn  howled  sharp  orders  to  the  crew,  and  I  saw 
them  crawling  out  on  the  yards,  trimming  sails, 
while  the  wind  tore  at  them  and  sought  to  drag 
them  to  death.  Every  son  aboard  knew  that 
nothing  remained  for  us  now  but  flight  and  a 
trust  in  God  that  we  might  elude  the  war-ship  in 
the  darkness  and  storm.  That  they  had  seen  us 
we  knew,  and  that  they  would  divine  our  purpose 
of  unlawfully  landing  a  cargo  there  was  no  doubt. 
Schooners  did  not  sail  without  lights  in  those 
parts  for  other  purposes.  Scarcely  a  minute 
passed  until  a  rocket  burned  its  way  from  the 
sloop's  deck  into  the  night,  followed  almost 
instantly  by  another  of  different  hue,  a  command 
for  us  to  halt  and  give  an  account  of  ourselves, 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT-  g 

our  sailing-master  said.  A  moment  later  and  we 
had  come  about,  the  schooner  staggering  like  a 
drunken  man,  and  were  speeding  away.  Again 
the  rockets,  and  no  response;  then  another 
illumination  from  the  sky  and  they  saw  our  stern 
towards  them. 

Hardly  had  the  lightning  died  away  until  a 
flash  sprang  from  the  sloop's  bow,  and  the  roar 
of  a  cannon  sounded,  but  we  saw  nothing  of  the 
ball.  Perhaps  it  was  a  blank  shot,  but  I  have 
never  been  able  so  to  persuade  myself.  In  truth, 
the  royal  officers  were  too  fond  of  "  shooting 
loyalty  to  the  King  "  into  the  Colonists  for  them 
ever  to  waste  powder  in  blank  shots.  Away  we 
sailed,  the  roaring  of  the  cannon  behind  us  blanch- 
ing many  tanned  cheeks,  for  we  were  practically 
helpless  in  a  fight,  having  no  arms  but  a  few 
muskets  and  a  dozen  cutlasses.  But  the  darkness 
and  the  plunging  of  the  vessels  saved  us  from 
harm  during  the  first  few  hours  of  the  race, 
though  once  a  cannon-ball  skimmed  our  lee  rail 
and  splintered  it.  But  presently  the  gray  of 
dawn  began  stealing  over  the  sea,  and  as  I  once 
more  left  the  cabin,  whither  my  father  had  forced 
me  to  seek  refuge,  I  found  him  standing  by  the 
wheel,  though  I  scarcely  knew  him  at  first  sight, 
so  haggard  his  face,  so  deep-set  his  eyes,  and  so 


io  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

aged  had  he  become  in  the  night.  He  looked  at 
me,  and  by  the  feeble  flicker  of  the  binnacle  light 
I  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Are  you  still  brave,  Ian?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  conscious  that  now  I  was 
become  either  his  weakness  or  his  strength,  as  I 
chose. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son,"  he  responded,  and 
embraced  me.  "  If  you  live,  remember  this  as 
your  first  stroke  for  liberty.  Surrender  now 
means  prison,  disgrace,  poverty;  persecution  for 
your  mother  and  all  of  us.  We  must  trust  to  our 
sails." 

With  the  approach  of  dawn  the  tempest  had 
stilled  considerably,  and  we  were  now  ploughing 
the  sea  with  quite  a  spread  of  canvas,  while 
the  sailing-master  anxiously  watched  the  wind, 
crowding  to  the  masts  every  inch  of  sail  that  he 
dared.  For  some  time  there  had  been  no  firing 
from  our  pursuers,  the  uselessness  of  the  can- 
nonading in  the  dark  having  become  apparent 
to  the  sloop's  commander,  but  now  as  the  pall  of 
darkness  began  to  lift,  pursuer  and  pursued  be- 
came visible,  white-winged  iotas  on  a  seemingly 
limitless  expanse  of  tossing  waves.  From  their 
masthead  the  ensign  of  his  Majesty's  navy  was 
fluttering  in  the  gale;  from  our  masthead- 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT—       n 

nothing  but  a  ribbon  of  canvas,  torn  by  the 
night's  storm,  washed  to  its  original  whiteness  by 
the  torrents  of  rain,  and  now  fluttering  its  bleached 
and  torn  shape  in  the  winds  of  heaven  as  though 
proclaiming  the  spotlessness  of  Liberty's  principle, 
and  the  rending  storms  through  which  it  could 
and  would  pass  and  yet  exist. 

Words  were  few  on  our  deck.  Every  man  had 
his  duty,  and  no  time  for  aught  else!  Spurts  of 
smoke  and  flame  began  belching  from  the  war- 
sloop's  bow,  and  solid  shot  came  skipping  across 
the  waves;  and  as  we  watched,  our  only  topsail 
was  carried  away,  greatly  reducing  our  speed. 
Preparations  for  spreading  another  were  hurried, 
but  the  sloop  had  gotten  our  range,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  a  shot  plumped  through  the  vessel 
just  above  the  water-line,  and  another  sent  our 
boom  flying  into  the  sea.  At  the  same  time  our 
steering-gear  fouled,  and  the  Eagle  lay  floundering, 
helpless,  in  the  sea.  The  next  shot  wrecked  the 
wheel-house  and  stretched  the  wheelsman,  dying, 
on  our  deck.  Our  hopeless  condition  and  the 
sight  of  the  wheelsman's  blood  conquered  my 
father,  and  he  turned,  sobbing,  to  the  sailing- 
master  and  ordered  a  surrender.  A  sailor  clam- 
bered half-way  up  the  splintered  mast  and  shook 
a  sheet  in  the  breeze  as  a  token  of  our  yielding. 


12  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

The  sloop  was  now  rapidly  overhauling  us,  and 
from  her  deck  we  could  hear  a  cheer,  as  though 
the  sleuths  of  the  sea  were  proud  of  their  victory 
over  a  helpless  fugitive. 

I  stood  by  my  father  when  the  naval  vessel 
came  alongside  and  her  boarding  crew  clambered 
over  our  splintered  rail.  His  hand  was  on  my 
arm  and  I  felt  it  quiver.  Looking  up,  I  noticed 
that  his  shoulders  were  stooped,  as  though  a 
decade  had  suddenly  dropped  upon  them.  The 
commander,  a  stocky-built,  heavy-jowled  man, 
pompous  in  his  brilliant  uniform,  strutted  forward 
to  where  we  stood,  his  men  halting  a  short  distance 
back. 

"  So,  you  traitorous  dogs!  "  he  shouted,  "  you 
found  yourselves  no  match  for  the  King's  men, 
eh?" 

As  he  spoke  he  stopped  in  front  of  my  father, 
his  thumbs  in  his  belt,  and  a  malicious  leer  on 
his  face.  My  nostrils  caught  the  fumes  of  liquor. 

"  We  have  not  tried  to  fight,  sir,"  responded 
my  father.  "  We  are  unarmed,  else  would  you 
not  come  swaggering  along  our  deck.  We  en- 
deavored to  protect  our  own  by  escape,  but 
failed.  That's  all,  sir." 

'  You  deserve  a  noose  at  the  end  of  a  yard- 
arm,  every  son  of  a  she  cur.    But  we'll  soon  have 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT-          13 

you  in  your  kennels,"  and  he  laughed  uproariously, 
at  the  same  time  emitting  a  stream  of  tobacco 
juice  from  his  mouth  that  would  have  drenched 
me  had  I  not  sprung  aside. 

I  heard  a  low  murmur  from  the  Eagle's  crew, 
drawn  up  near  the  mainmast.  The  night  had 
stolen  my  childhood  from  me,  and  as  I  looked 
into  their  sullen  faces  I  knew  that  but  a  spark 
was  needed  to  fire  a  mine,  the  result  of  which 
would  be  tragedy.  That  my  intuitions  were  not 
at  fault  was  proven  quickly. 

"  We  are  your  prisoners,  sir,  and  —  damn  me, 
you  are  drunk!  "  thundered  my  father. 

The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  the 
officer  raised  his  heavy  fist  and  struck  him  full 
in  the  face,  knocking  him  to  the  deck.  Then  I 
heard  a  howl  of  rage  arise  from  the  men  of  the 
Eagle.  As  though  with  one  thought,  they  turned 
and  seized  the  cutlasses  and  muskets  which  had 
been  brought  out  during  the  early  morning  and 
stacked  near  the  mainmast.  Why  the  officer  had 
not  secured  them  when  first  he  boarded  us  can 
only  be  explained  by  his  drunken  condition, 
which  blinded  him  to  all  but  his  opportunity  to 
vent  his  vileness  on  helpless  men. 

An  instant  later  a  shower  of  bullets  from  the 
Eagle's  men  and  the  boarding  crew  swept  the 


i4  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

deck,  though  so  hasty  was  the  fire  that  but  few 
fell.  Then,  led  by  the  sailing-master,  the  Eagle's 
men  sprang  forward  with  cutlasses  upraised,  and 
in  a  trice  Colonist  and  Briton  were  all  desperately 
fighting. 

I  snatched  up  one  of  the  heavy  blades  and  then 
rushed  to  my  father's  side,  but  before  I  could 
reach  him  I  saw  the  officer  bury  his  sword  in  the 
unarmed  man's  breast.  As  my  father  fell  his  life- 
blood  spurted  out  and  stained  my  garments. 
Blinded  with  the  horror  of  it  all,  I  clutched  the 
cutlass  with  both  hands  and  swung  it  with  all  my 
strength.  A  shrill  cry  of  pain  brought  me  out  of 
the  frenzy  for  a  moment  and  I  saw  the  officer's 
sword  drop,  his  right  hand  clinging  to  his  wrist 
by  but  a  strip  of  bloody  flesh.  My  blade  had 
swung  true.  He  fell  to  his  knees,  and  then, 
rising,  staggered  to  the  boat's  side,  while  I  whirled 
and  dived  into  the  hell  of  fighting,  bleeding, 
dying  men  which  now  separated  me  from  my 
father.  God!  It  was  awful  on  the  deck  of  the 
Eagle  that  Sunday  morning. 

The  struggle  was  to  the  death;  no  longer  was 
the  question  of  prisoners  possible.  Men  fought 
and  fell  dying,  and  in  their  death  agonies  reached 
up  from  the  mire  of  blood  to  strike  a  last  blow. 
But  it  could  not  last  long.  The  Eagle's  men  were 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT-          15 

too  few.  For  me  it  was  soon  over.  Hardly  had  I 
plunged  into  the  vortex  of  death  when  my  blade 
was  sent  flying  from  my  weak  hand,  and  a  glancing 
blow  of  a  cutlass  caught  me  here  —  here  under 
the  forelock.  'Twas  a  gaping,  bloody  wound, 
and  the  boy,  Ian  Lester,  went  down  on  the  deck 
of  the  Eagle  among  the  corpses  and  those  who 
soon  would  be  corpses.  And  as  I  rolled  over  in 
my  agony  of  pain,  I  looked  aloft  and  saw  the 
white  remnant  of  sail  still  fluttering  to  heaven  its 
signal  of  the  dawning  of  Liberty's  struggle.  Then 
a  blur  of  red  came  before  my  eyes,  the  shrieks  of 
men  and  the  clashing  of  steel  died  away,  and 
the  blessing  of  unconsciousness  was  mine. 

It  must  have  been  an  hour  later  when  I  feebly 
wiped  the  blood  from  my  eyes  and  raised  myself 
on  one  elbow.  The  fight  was  over,  reinforcements 
from  the  war-sloop  had  boarded  us,  and  under 
the  direction  of  a  gray-haired  officer  were  going 
about  the  decks,  unclasping  dead  men  from  each 
other's  embrace,  laying  them  out  in  separate 
rows,  Briton  in  one,  American  in  the  other,  while 
a  surgeon  was  busy  with  the  wounded,  and  the 
blood  was  being  washed  from  the  Eagle's  deck. 
Once  more  objects  danced  unsteadily  before  me, 
and  I  fainted. 

When  next  I  opened  my  eyes  I  found  myself 


16  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

lying  in  a  strange  bunk,  amid  strange  surround- 
ings. I  put  my  hand  to  my  head  and  found  a 
bandage  there.  Then  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  a 
British  naval  surgeon  stepped  to  my  side. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  my  boy?  "  he  asked,  kindly. 

"  All  right,  I  think,  sir,"  I  replied.  "  Will  you 
tell  me  about  what  happened  after  I  fell?  " 

He  looked  grave  and  serious.  "  I  think  I  had 
better  not,"  he  said,  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  his 
tone.  "  Let  me  simply  tell  you  that  you  are  on 
his  Majesty's  sloop,  Oxford,  and  that  you  have  a 
nasty  cut  on  your  head." 

"And  my  father?" 

"  His  name,  please." 

"  John  MacDonald  Lester,  owner  of  the  Eagle" 

Another  shadow  rested  on  his  face.  "  I  know 
you  have  courage,  for  they  say  you  fought  well, 
so  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  your  father  is  dead." 

I  felt  the  hot  tears  gush  from  my  eyes,  and  the 
surgeon  tried  in  vain  to  check  my  sobs.  I  thought 
of  my  gentle  mother,  and  knew  that  the  blade 
which  took  my  father's  life  had  shortened  hers, 
also.  The  surgeon  gave  me  a  quieting  potion, 
and  after  awhile  I  fell  asleep,  partly  from  sheer 
weakness  and  weariness.  Ah,  boys  were  sturdy 
in  those  days,  and  the  heartaches  and  dangers 
matured  them  quickly,  making  mere  striplings 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   BENT-          17 

leaders  in  the  affairs  of  men,  but  I  think  you  will 
agree  that  it  was  no  disgrace  that  I  should  lie 
there  and  sleep,  even  though  I  had  not  looked 
upon  the  face  of  my  father  since  death  had  come. 

It  was  almost  sunset  when  I  awakened.  No 
one  was  near,  and,  though  weak  and  dizzy,  I 
clambered  out  of  the  bunk  and  made  my  way  to 
the  deck.  The  sea  was  calm,  there  being  just 
enough  breeze  to  keep  us  moving  at  a  fair  speed 
with  all  sails  set.  I  looked  astern,  and  there 
trailed  the  Eagle,  a  cable  fastened  to  her  bow. 
Rent  and  torn,  she  breasted  the  sea  unevenly, 
but  her  white  fragment  of  sail  still  flapped  from 
the  masthead. 

It  wTas  near  noon  of  the  following  day  when  we 
anchored  in  the  bay  at  Boston,  and  I  and  the 
three  others  of  the  Eagle  who  still  clung  to.  life 
were  put  ashore  under  guard.  My  father's  body 
was  taken  with  us,  and  after  a  brief  pause  on  the 
dock,  I  was  placed  between  two  soldiers  and 
marched  off  towards  prison.  Behind  me  were 
borne  the  wounded  men,  and  behind  them  the 
body  of  my  father,  a  strong  guard  around  us. 

The  news  of  the  affair  had  spread,  and  the 
streets  were  lined  to  see  us  pass.  There  were 
jeering  Loyalists,  and  side  by  side  with  them 
women  who  wept  in  sympathy  with  us,  and 


i8  GAYLE    LANGFORD' 

strong  men  who  with  white  faces  and  set  jaws 
watched  the  procession  of  woe.  As  we  turned 
a  corner  I  saw  a  little  girl  not  more  than  seven, 
with  freckled  face  and  straw-colored  hair,  pick  up 
a  pebble  and  hurl  it  at  me  as  she  shouted,  "  Long 
live  King  George!  "  A  moment  later  I  turned 
and  saw  her  burst  into  tears  as  my  father's  body 
was  borne  past. 

A  little  farther  on  and  a  woman  came,  scream- 
ing, towards  us.  It  was  my  mother.  With 
streaming  eyes  and  outstretched  arms,  she  rushed 
towards  me,  but  was  forced  away. 

"  Ian!      Ian!      Your  father?  "  she  moaned. 

I  could  not  utter  a  word,  but  turned  and 
pointed  to  the  silent  burden  in  the  rear.  With  a 
shriek  she  flung  herself  on  the  body  of  my  father, 
but  was  seized  by  soldiers  and  thrust  back. 
Forgetting  my  guards,  I  sprang  towards  her,  but 
a  blow  from  a  musket  sent  me  down  and  the  next 
moment  I  was  being  dragged  along,  fighting, 
crying,  praying,  while  my  guards  laughed  at  my 
struggles. 

Of  my  imprisonment  for  a  week  as  "an  enemy 
dangerous  to  the  King  "  I  need  not  tell.  At  the 
end  of  the  week  I  was  released  to  attend  the 
funeral  of  my  mother,  who  had  been  stricken 
by  brain  fever,  and  after  that  I  was  taken  charge 


"AS    THE    TWIG   IS   J3ENT-          19 

of  by  an  uncle  of  my  father,  living  in  Lexington. 
What  little  of  my  father's  property  remained 
was  confiscated  to  the  King  —  and  squandered 
by  his  officers. 

At  every  opportunity  during  the  next  ten  years 
I  took  fencing  lessons,  and  my  progress  was  a 
matter  of  pleasure  to  my  tutors,  the  most  pro- 
ficient men  with  the  blade  to  be  found  in  the 
Colonies,  for  my  great-uncle  was  not  stingy  in  my 
education.  The  rupture  with  England  was  con- 
stantly widening,  and  I  confess,  though  perhaps 
it  was  evil  in  me,  that  I  saw  with  delight  the 
Colonists  preparing  for  war,  for  I  longed  to  strike 
a  blow  against  the  King. 

I  was  one  of  those  who  sprang  from  bed  at  the 
warning  of  Paul  Revere  that  the  British  were 
marching  to  Concord  to  destroy  the  ammunition 
the  Patriots  had  smuggled  there  from  Boston. 
But  history  has  told  you  how  Major  Pitcairn's 
advance  found  us  on  the  Lexington  common  in 
the  early  morning,  and  though  there  was  dismay 
in  most  Patriot  hearts  that  day  of  tragedy, 
in  my  breast  exultation  flamed,  for  the  first 
volley  of  the  Revolution  had  been  fired. 


CHAPTER   II 

"  —  THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED  " 

CAPTAIN  LESTER!  " 
I  looked  up  from  the  letter  I  had  just 
received  from  my  father's  uncle,  a  letter 
that   he   had   written    me    some   three    months 
before,  and  which  had  been  following  me  about, 
up  country  and  across  country,  in  soldiers'  saddle- 
bags, while  I  was  being  blown  hither,  thither,  by 
the  fierce  blast  of  war  that  was  now  sweeping  in 
all  its  fury  across  the  Colonies. 

My  great-uncle,  while  severe  in  his  criticism  of 
King  George's  policies,  was  far  from  warm  in  the 
cause  of  the  Patriot  armies.  He  was  always  a 
timid  man,  and  this  Revolution,  he  foresaw, 
would  but  result  in  the  hanging  of  every  wretched 
man  of  us  who  failed  to  die  in  battle.  This  very 
letter  was  begging  me  to  "  do  nothing  ill-judged  " 
lest  I  bring  "  the  King's  wrath  on  not  only  myself, 
but  all  of  my  kin  as  well."  Such  whinings  always 

20 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    21 

aroused  my  temper,  which,  I  sometimes  fear,  lies 
too  close  to  the  surface.  And  so  it  was  in  an  ill 
humor  that  I  turned  to  the  soldier  who  had 
addressed  me,  and  who  still  stood  at  salute  while 
I  scowled  at  the  pages  before  me. 

"  Well,  Bates,  what  is  it?  Don't  stand  there 
like  a  scarecrow!  "  Which  ill  speech  shows  what 
a  crusty  temper  I  was  in. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,  but  it's  orders  to  remain  at 
salute  until  the  superior  answers,  sir." 

In  a  moment  I  had  caught  my  senses  again. 
"  Of  course  it  is,  Bates,"  I  replied,  humbly, 
"  and  you're  a  faithful  soldier.  I  was  vexed  at 
other  things  and  vented  my  wrath  on  you. 
What  is  your  wish?  " 

"  General  Washington  directs  that  you  report 
to  him  at  once,  sir." 

You  may  be  sure  that  the  summons  set  my 
heart  a-thumping.  Not  one  of  my  brother  officers 
but  would  have  charged  a  British  battery  single- 
handed  if  by  so  doing  he  could  earn  a  summons 
by  the  Chief,  and  this  knowledge  caused  me  to 
come  out  of  my  cloud  of  gloom  instanter.  What 
the  summons  might  mean  I  had  not  the  slightest 
idea,  but  that  it  could  not  be  of  ill  import  I  knew, 
for,  so  far,  my  military  record  was  stainless, 
whatever  the  future  might  hold  in  store  for  me. 


22  GAYLE   LANGFORL 

And  so,  dressed  my  smartest,  which  was  sorry 
enough,  the  good  Lord  knows,  I  soon  betook 
myself  to  headquarters,  a  place  admirably  situated 
as  regarded  easy  communication  with  any  portion 
of  the  Patriot  army,  that  now  held  New  York. 
The  Chief  was  alone  in  his  office  when  I  was 
shown  in. 

"  Ah,  Captain  Lester?  "  There  was  a  question 
in  his  tone. 

"  Yes,  sir."      And  I  bowed. 

Washington  did  not  rise,  but  sat  regarding  me 
critically  for  a  moment  as  I  stood  at  attention, 
making  the  most  of  my  inches.  Those  calm  eyes 
seemed  searching  my  soul  in  that  period  of  silence, 
and  I  remember  wondering  if  he  would  discover 
the  vanity  that  was  rioting  in  my  breast  because 
of  the  summons.  Then  he  smiled,  and  his  cold 
face  was  transformed. 

"  You'll  do,  Captain!    Pray  be  seated." 

Without  further  preliminaries  he  drew  a  small 
packet  of  papers  from  the  desk,  and  laid  them 
before  me. 

"  I  have  heard  you  spoken  of  as  a  brave, 
discreet  soldier  —  Ah,  good!  You  blush!  "  In 
truth,  my  face  was  flaming  like  a  schoolgirl's. 
"  There  is  worth  in  the  man  who  blushes,"  he 
added. 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"     23 

I  racked  my  brains  for  an  answer,  but  confusion 
held  my  tongue,  and,  try  as  I  would,  I  could  but 
sit  mute,  fingering  my  sabre  nervously.  His  face 
was  grave  again. 

"  You  must  know,  Captain,  that  our  position 
here  is  precarious.  Howe  may  appear  at  any 
day  with  an  overwhelming  force.  But  even  that 
is  not  the  worst  danger  that  confronts  us.  Our 
troops  are  poorly  equipped,  they  have  no  money ; 
in  many  instances  their  families  at  home  are  in 
dire  want.  Patriotism  is  ebbing,  and  on  the 
rolls  of  your  own  troop  I  doubt  not  there  are 
many  marked, '  Deserted.'  And  among  those  who 
should  be  my  most  loyal  officers  intrigue  has 
found  a  home.  They  seek  to  put  another  in 
my  place,  and  —  " 

"  Devil  take  them!  "  I  cried,  springing  to  my 
feet,  carried  away  by  the  recital,  for  while  the 
words  of  it  may  sound  calm  enough  to  you,  could 
you  have  seen  the  sadness  that  stole  into  every 
line  of  that  proud  face,  could  you  have  heard 
the  note  of  sorrow  that  burdened  each  word, 
you  would  realize  the  emotion  that  jerked  me  to 
my  feet  and  sent  my  pulse  a-bounding  with  my 
desire  to  make  the  traitors  feel  the  sting  of  my 
steel. 

"  Easy,  Captain,"  was  the  Chief's  soft  answer, 


24  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

and  one  great  hand  was  upraised  in  deprecation. 
I  dropped  back  into  my  chair,  my  tongue  glib 
enough  now  with  apologies. 

"  So,  you  can  do  other  things  than  blush,"  he 
said,  a  faint  smile  again  visible. 

"  I  can  fight  for  you,  sir!  "  I  cried,  the  blood 
not  yet  out  of  my  head. 

"  Not  for  me,  Captain,  but  for  your  country." 
He  took  up  the  papers  again.  "  These  must 
reach  Philadelphia,  and  I  have  selected  you  to 
take  them  there.  You  will  find  them  properly 
addressed.  One  is  to  be  delivered  to  Congress 
without  delay,  another  is  to  be  placed  in  the 
hands  of  one  of  the  most  active  Tories  in  the  land, 
Peter  Langford,  a  man  of  great  wrealth,  and  a 
resident  of  Philadelphia.  And  this  communica- 
tion -  '  he  drew  a  paper  from  the  packet  - 
"  must  be  dropped,  apparently  by  accident,  in 
his  house  in  order  that  it  may  fall  into  his  hands. 
The  details  you  must  work  out  for  yourself,  but 
see  that  it  falls  into  Langford's  hands  apparently 
without  your  knowledge.  You  understand?  " 

"  I  do,  sir,"  I  replied,  simply. 

"  I  dislike  to  take  harsh  measures  with  those 
not  in  arms,  but  this  Langford  is  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  enemies  of  the  American  cause,  and  so 
I  have  taken  occasion  to  warn  him  in  the  one 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    25 

communication  and  to  give  him  seemingly  acci- 
dental possession  of  the  other  in  order  that  I  may 
see  the  result  —  whether  he  will  heed  the  warning 
or  attempt  ruin  to  our  cause  by  what  he  will  con- 
sider valuable  information.  Will  you  take  an 
escort  or  go  alone?  " 

"  Alone,  I  think,  sir.  An  escort  would  but 
invite  attack,  with  few  more  chances  of  successful 
resistance,  and  decidedly  less  opportunities  of 
escape  by  dodging." 

"  My  idea.  I  am  more  than  ever  pleased  with 
you,  Lester.  When  will  you  start?  " 

"  Within  the  hour,  sir." 

As  I  saluted  and  would  have  withdrawn,  he 
arose  and,  towering  over  me,  grasped  my  hand 
and  squeezed  it. 

"  Report  back  to  me  —  when  and  where  you 
can,"  he  said. 

It  was  considerably  less  than  an  hour  later  that 
I  was  pounding  along  towards  our  outposts,  a 
song  in  my  heart.  Then,  after  dismounting  and 
whispering  the  countersign  numberless  times,  I 
was  galloping  along  country  lanes  and  past  fields 
where  none  but  women  and  young  boys  were  to 
be  seen  at  work,  the  husbands  and  fathers  being 
with  Washington.  I  wore  my  uniform,  for  the 
risk  was  but  little  more,  and  I  did  not  fancy  being 


26  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

hung  as  a  spy  if  caught  in  civilian's  garb.  I  had 
marched  up  the  Kennebec  with  Arnold  and  had 
won  my  captaincy  in  the  charge  amid  the  snows 
of  Quebec.  I  saw  the  gallant  Arnold  fall  that  day 
of  disaster,  and  would  have  challenged  the  man 
who  would  have  told  me  then  that  the  time  would 
come  when  the  army  instead  of  singing  of  his 
valor  and  patriotism  would  be  cursing  the  name 
of  Benedict  Arnold,  traitor. 

I  have  no  mind  to  tell  you  of  that  journey  to 
Philadelphia  and  of  my  petty  adventures.  It 
was  getting  dusk  on  the  evening  of  July  3,  1776, 
when  my  wearied  horse  carried  me  across  the 
Delaware  and  into  the  Quaker  capital.  The  war 
had  not  yet  touched  this  section,  and  in  place  of 
the  frowning  ramparts  to  which  I  had  been 
accustomed  for  these  many  months,  I  saw  ter- 
raced lawns;  instead  of  the  tread  of  soldiers,  I 
heard  the  trampling  of  feet  on  pleasure  or  trade 
bent. 

A  carriage  drawn  by  a  magnificent  team  of 
spirited  animals  suddenly  swung  around  a  corner, 
and  as  I  reined  sharply  to  one  side  to  avoid  a 
collision,  the  flunkey  on  the  seat  cut  my  horse 
sharply  with  his  whip.  White  with  rage,  I 
wheeled,  intending  to  spur  after  and  cut  him  down, 
but  at  that  moment  a  mocking  laugh  rang  out, 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    27 

and  my  eyes  turned  from  the  flunkey  to  the  occu- 
pants, one  a  young  lady  whose  features  I  could 
not  clearly  distinguish  in  the  gathering  gloom, 
and  the  other  a  man,  evidently  of  about  my  own 
age,  and  dressed  in  the  height  of  the  prevailing 
fashion.  Nothing  more  did  I  note  concerning 
him,  but  I  sat  rigid  in  my  saddle  staring  at  the 
face  of  the  young  woman,  who  was  now  looking 
back  over  her  shoulder  as  the  carriage  whirled 
on.  In  truth,  a  pretty  face  was  always  my 
weakness,  and  so  I  sat  there  like  a  clown,  instead 
of  spurring  forward  to  vengeance.  As  seen  in  the 
gloom,  she  was  fair  of  complexion,  her  hair  of  the 
shade  of  copper,  her —  But  again  came  that 
laugh,  and  I  swore  like  a  sailor,  consigning  the 
entire  sex  to  perdition  for  their  beauty  and  their 
mockery. 

An  old  negro  came  mincing  along,  crooning  a 
song,  and  something  in  the  quaint  melody  struck 
a  chord  in  my  heart  that  had  remained  silent 
while  the  years  crowded  my  boyhood  into  its 
tomb.  In  a  moment  I  was  off  my  horse  and 
was  standing  before  him,  causing  him  to  start 
back  in  alarm. 

"  Rassle,  you  black  angel!  "  I  cried,  forgetting 
for  the  moment  that  all  angels,  whether  white  or 
black,  were  popularly  pictured  as  being  feminine. 


28  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

He  gazed  at  me,  his  eyes  slowly  widening. 
Then  his  teeth  began  to  show  in  a  grin,  and  before 
I  could  have  prevented  him  if  I  had  wanted  to, 
which  I  assuredly  did  not,  he  had  wrapped  his 
arms  about  me  and  was  hugging  me. 

"  'Fore  God,  Marse  Ian,  de  ol'  man  done  thought 
it  was  a  ha'nt!  " 

"  Nonsense,  you  old  rascal,"  (Queer,  isn't  it, 
how  we  mix  up  our  endearing  terms?)  "  you  never 
saw  a  spook  in  your  life." 

"No,  suh,  nebber  did;  dat's  a  fac',  but  I'm 
'spectin'  to,  suh,  an',  de  Lord  lub  ye,  Marse  Ian, 
I  thought  fer  suah  you  was  in  dat  place  whar  de 
spooks  hides."  He  released  me  and  then  stepping 
back  a  pace,  he  put  his  hands  on  his  knees  and 
half -stooped  as  he  regarded  me  curiously.  "  What 
become  o'  dat  liT  boy,  Ian,  what  I  useter  ca'y  on 
dese  yere  ol'  shoulders,  huh?  Whar  he  is,  Marse 
Soldier?  An'  what  you  all  doin'  wif  dat  voice  o' 
his,  an'  dat  laugh  o'  his,  an'  -  '  he  reached  for- 
ward and  raked  back  the  hair  from  my  forehead  - 
"  an'  what  is  you  doin'  wif  dat  scar?  Huh,  Marse 
Soldier?  If  dis  ain't  spook  work  den  de  voodoo 
man  am  a  liar.  Huh?  " 

"That  boy  died  long  ago  —  before  his  youth 
had  fled  —  at  the  hands  of  the  King's  hirelings, 
Rassle,  and  from  his  grave  arose  a  man  whose 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    29 

heart  burned  with  a  desire  to  avenge  the  boy's 
death,  a  man  God-blessed  with  strength  to  do  the 
heart's  will." 

"Don'  un'erstan'  it,  Marse  Ian  —  I  mean, 
Marse  Soldier  —  don'  un'erstan'  it  at  all.  Why, 
'tain't  been  but  er  liT  while  since  I  done  toted 
'im  on  my  back,  an'  ol'  Marse  John  —  may  de 
blessed  God  rest  his  soul !  —  he  look  on  mighty 
proud  like,  an'  tell  ol'  Rassle  ter  be  keerful  o'  de 
boy.  An'  de  sweet  ol'  Missus  —  Marse  Soldier  — 
she  done  fade  erway  jes'  like  a  rose  when  de  fros' 
come.  Jes'  er  liT  while  ergo,  jes'  er  liT  while 
ergo  'twas,  'cause  I  kin  hear  'er  singin'  right  dis 
minute,  jes'  sweet  an'  low  like  de  Souf  win's 
what  uster  come  in  de  June  twilights : 

"  In  de  good  ship  Zion  we  are  sailin'  to  our  home, 
Though  de  waves  may  dash  and  billers  roll." 

With  his  arms  half -outstretched  he  swung  them 
back  and  forth  to  the  rhythm  of  the  song,  and  I  —  ? 
That  chord  he  had  touched  in  my  bosom  was 
seconding  the  words;  Memory  was  swelling  the 
music  until  my  eyes  were  growing  misty  and  I 
scarce  could  see  him.  Faithful  old  servant  in 
my  father's  family  he  had  been  for  years,  until 
Tragedy  swept  that  home  away  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  turn  to  strangers. 


30  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Yes,"  I  whispered,  "  like  the  South  winds  in 
the  June  twilights.     So  soft!    So  sweet!    And- 
yes  — 'twas  just  like  a  rose  she  faded,  Rassle  —  just 
as  you  say!    Like  a  rose  when  the  frost  comes." 

"  But  de  good  God  done  watches  over  de  roses 
what  fades,  Marse  Ian,  an'  when  de  fros'  cuts  off 
de  pretty  flowers  He  done  takes  'em  up  fer  to 
decorate  His  throne.  An'  dar  ol'  Rassle  gwine 
ter  see  de  sweet  ol'  Missus  bimeby  —  up  dar 
whar  no  fros'  cain't  come,  an'  whar  it  is  always 
Junetime,  wif  de  Souf  win's." 

"  Well,  Rassle,  enough  of  this,"  I  said,  clicking 
my  feet  together  and  trying  to  resurrect  Ian 
Lester,  the  soldier,  from  the  tomb  in  which  I 
had  for  the  moment  placed  him  in  order  to  again 
be  Ian  Lester,  the  boy.  "It  is  not  strange  in 
these  days  of  blood  that  you  thought  me  dead, 
but  what  of  yourself?  You  appear  prosperous." 

The  old  fellow  straightened  himself  and  stood 
stiffly  erect,  his  chest  puffed  out  in  a  comical 
effort  to  assume  a  look  of  dignity. 

"  I'se  monstrous  gran',  Marse  Ian,  I  suhtenly 
is  monstrous  gran'  dese  days.  I'se  de  gen  —  de 
gener'lis'mo  o'  de  colored  help  up  to  Marse  Peter 
Langford's  house,  an'  —  " 

'  The  generalissimo  at  Peter  Langford's!  Peter 
Langford,  the  Tory?  " 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    31 

"  Sh-h!  Marse  Ian,  do  be  keerful  o'  yer  tongue. 
Dey  don'  like  dat  word  '  Tory,'  dese  fine  gen'le- 
mens  don',  an'  so  I'se  'bleeged  ter  say  dat  I'se 
de  gener  —  what  ye  said  —  at  Marse  Peter 
Langford's,  de  Loyalist.  An'  I'se  monstrous 
gran'  up  dere,  lemme  tell  ye.  An'  I  aint  '  Rassle  ' 
no  more,  but  '  E-ras-mus.'  ' 

The  old  fellow  chuckled  at  the  thoughts  of  his 
"  grandness,"  so  unlike  the  old  days  when  he  was 
as  near  a  part  of  our  family  as  black  servants  ever 
came  to  be  in  any  family,  and  I  had  dubbed  him 
"  Rassle,"  a  name  that  clung  to  him  until  he 
entered  upon  his  present  "  grandness." 

"  Then  I  am  more  than  ever  pleased  at  finding 
you,"  I  said.  "  I  am  going  to  his  house  this 
evening." 

"  Wh-wh-a-at?  Marse  Soldier,  in  dem  clothes?  " 

"  Certainly.     Why  not?  " 

"  'Fore  God,  Marse  Langford'll  throw  er  fit 
when  he  sees  er  rebel  uniform  in  his  house." 

"  Then  let  him,  for  to-night  I  will  be  there." 

"An'  ter-night!  He-he-he-haw-haw!"  He 
burst  into  laughter.  "  What  er  time  dar's  gwine 
ter  be  in  dat  house  dis  night!  " 

"  Is  there  anything  especially  amusing  about 
the  date  that  has  been  chosen  for  my  visit?  " 

"  Yes,  suh,  dar  suhtenly  is,  fer  ter-night  dar's 


32  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

gwine  ter  be  a  gran'  fancy  ball  fer  de  young  Missy 
Gayle  an'  fer  some  German  Prince  wif  er  name 
dat  done  loosens  my  teef  every  time  I  gits  gran' 
an'  tries  ter  say  it.  De  Prince  he  been  hyar  fer 
some  time,  an'  de  black  folks  say  he  powe'ful 
sweet  on  Missy  Gayle,  an'  ol'  Marse  Langford  an' 
ol'  Missus  Langford  "  (his  voice  sank  to  a  whisper) 
"  dey  monstrous  fond  er  titles." 

The  old  darky  picked  up  a  stick  and  began  to 
mark: 

"  Hyar  de  title,  an'  hyar  Marse  Langford's 
money,  an'  dese  two  dey  jes'  keep  a  leakin',  an' 
a  leakin',  an'  a  1-e-a-k-i-n'  towards  each  other, 
until  bimeby  dey's  gwine  ter  git  tergedder.  An' 
fer  er  feller  what's  fightin'  'ginst  er  king  ter 
march  inter  dat  crowd  wif  his  uniform  on  —  Oh, 
Lord!  Marse  Ian,  don'  do  it!  " 

"  Devil  a  snap  care  I  for  their  titles,  their 
money,  and  their  salable  womanflesh.  It's 
orders,  Rassle,  and  I'm  going.  And  as  for  you, 
no  matter  what  happens,  forget  you  ever  knew  me." 

"  Yes,  suh,  Marse  Ian,  I'se  gwine  ter  fergit, 
I'se  gwine  ter  remember  dat,  but  you'se  er  gwine 
inter  a  wasp  nest.  Dey  mayn't  hurt  ye  bad,  but 
dey'll  suhtenly  sting  ye,  Marse  Ian.  But  I  mus' 
be  er-gwine,  'cause  dere's  big  doin's  dar  ter-night, 
an'  I'se  monstrous  gran'  as  de  gener'lis'mo." 


"—  THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    33 

He  chuckled  again  and  went  mincing  away 
while  I  mounted  and  rode  to  the  Golden  Lion, 
a  modest  tavern,  where  I  demanded  accommoda- 
tions for  myself  and  beast.  The  signboard  bore 
a  rude  imitation  of  the  royal  coat  of  arms,  but  the 
landlord  was  said  to  be  secretly  a  Patriot  sym- 
pathizer, though  cringing  and  timorous  to  a 
degree  that  kept  him  constantly  shifting  in  his 
efforts  to  balance  his  principles  on  both  shoulders. 
As  I  strode  into  the  tap-room  with  spurs  and 
sabre  clanking  I  created  a  mild  sort  of  a  sensation, 
and  very  shortly  I  observed  two  or  three  of  the 
loafers  who  had  been  watching  me  uneasily  slink 
out  of  the  door  and  disappear.  "  Tories,  and 
scared  limber  for  fear  vengeance  is  come,"  I  said 
to  myself,  and  I  have  never  changed  my  mind. 

I  was  given  a  room  and  a  tub  of  water,  in  which 
I  was  soon  splashing  merrily,  and  then  with  the 
aid  of  a  broom  the  dust  was  taken  out  of  my 
clothes  as  much  as  possible,  and  after  a  mug  of 
ale  and  a  steaming  supper  I  stepped  forth  into 
the  night  a  different-looking  figure  from  the 
w^eary  one  who  had  ridden  there  two  hours  before. 
The  despatch  to  Congress  remained  sewed  in  the 
waistband  of  my  trousers,  to  be  ripped  out  and 
delivered  on  the  morrow.  The  letter  to  Langford 
and  the  one  I  was  to  lose  were  in  an  inner  pocket. 


34  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

As  I  approached  Langford's  I  saw  that  Rassle 
had  not  exaggerated.  There  was  every  evidence  of 
"big  doin's  "  at  hand.  The  mansion  sat  back- 
from  the  street  quite  a  distance,  and  the  walk 
leading  to  it  was  shaded  by  a  row  of  trees  on 
either  side.  From  these  trees  giant  lanterns  hung 
this  night,  making  a  pathway  of  light.  This 
pathway  no  rebel  feet  were  expected  to  tread, 
but  on  that  July  night  the  negroes  in  scarlet  and 
gold  livery  who  stood  at  the  entrance  gasped  with 
astonishment,  for  with  head  erect  and  sword 
dangling,  a  captain  of  the  Continental  army,  in 
full  uniform,  strode  past  them  and  marched  up 
the  avenue  of  Tory  magnificence  to  the  house 
a-glitter  from  ground  to  dome  with  many  candles. 
And  then  this  captain  raised  the  great  knocker 
and  sent  a  summons  thundering  through  the 
halls.  A  black  servant  in  livery  swung  open  the 
door,  and  then  sprang  back. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Langford  at  once,"  I  said. 
'  Yes,  suh;  step  in,  suh,"  responded  the  serv- 
ant, his  years  of  training  governing.  "  This 
way,  suh,"  and  he  led  me  through  a  grand  hallway 
and  ushered  me  into  a  library.  "What  name, 
suh?" 

"  Never  mind  the  name.     Tell  him  it  is  im- 
portant, and  that  will  do." 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"     35 

The  room  was  a  spacious  one  and  fitted  with 
all  of  the  luxury  great  wealth  could  command. 
Costly  paintings  hung  on  the  walls,  and  rare 
books  were  on  the  shelves.  A  long  table  and 
easy  chairs  were  there,  but  I  had  not  time  to  stare 
further,  for  the  door  opened  and  into  the  room 
stepped  a  man  dressed  in  the  prevailing  fashion 
of  an  old  English  gentleman  of  wealth,  the 
buckles  on  his  shoes  being  pure  silver,  his  stock- 
ings of  finest  spun  silk;  deep  ruffles  of  rare  lace 
hung  about  his  hands,  while  the  rest  of  his  attire 
was  a  bewildering  arrangement  of  satin  and  silks, 
and  his  hair,  worn  in  an  aristocratic  queue,  was 
powdered  snow  white.  He  was  near  seventy 
years  of  age,  stout  built,  and  with  a  face  so  red 
as  to  suggest  the  nearness  of  palsy. 

"  Well,  damn  me!  "  he  exclaimed,  halting  as 
he  caught  sight  of  a  rebel  uniform  before  him. 

I  bowed  as  gracefully  as  possible.  "  Mr.  Peter 
Langford,  I  presume,"  I  said,  though  I  knew 
'twas  he. 

"  It  is,  sir,"  he  responded,  sharply,  his  eyes 
slowly  taking  me  in  from  sole  to  crown.  "And 
who  the  devil  are  you,  sir,  that  you  are  here  in 
such  a  clownish  costume?  " 

"  Ian  Lester,  Captain  in  the  Continental  Army, 
at  your  service,  sir,  and  here  by  orders  of  his 


36  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Excellency,  George  Washington,  Cornrnander-in- 
Chief  of  the  Patriot  forces." 

"Patriot!  Rebel  pigs!  And  '  what  prompts 
your  Mister  Washington  to  send  you  to  me?  " 

"  A  letter,  sir,"  and  I  drew  it  forth,  at  the  same 
time  loosening  the  other  in  my  pocket  so  that  I 
could  drop  it  when  I  thought  best. 

He  looked  at  the  communication  a  moment, 
and  then  as  he  was  about  to  break  the  seal,  he 
paused  and  motioned  to  a  chair. 

"  Be  seated,  Mister  Lester." 

I  took  the  seat,  watching  him  intently  as  he 
stood  nervously  tearing  his  way  to  the  contents 
of  the  letter.  As  he  read,  I  saw  his  expression 
change  from  surprise  to  anger,  then  fear,  and 
finally  rage,  until,  as  he  finished,  he  crushed  the 
paper  in  his  hands  and  stood  over  me  as  though 
about  to  strike.  If  he  expected  me  to  spring  from 
my  chair  in  alarm  he  met  with  disappointment. 
Curses  fell  from  his  lips  until  as  a  trooper  and  one 
accustomed  to  profanity,  I  was  forced  to  admire 
his  command  of  it.  I  remember  once,  a  year 
later,  when  my  horse  was  stung  by  a  bullet  during 
a  skirmish  and  bolted  to  the  rear  with  me  while 
shouts  and  jeers  assailed  me,  how  I  prayed  for 
Peter  Langford's  stock  of  words  and  phrases  to 
pour  out  on  that  beast. 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    37 

"  And  do  you  know  the  contents  of  this  letter?  " 
he  shouted,  after  he  had  again  taken  breath. 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  reading  General 
Washington's  correspondence,"  I  replied,  be- 
ginning to  be  amused. 

He  dropped  into  a  chair,  spread  the  crumpled 
sheet  on  the  table,  piecing  in  a  portion  he  had 
torn  off  in  his  rage,  and  read  it  again.  In  the 
pause  that  followed,  I  heard  a  masculine  voice 
somewhere  down  the  corridor  raised  in  a  short 
refrain,  and  though  I  was  not  linguist  enough  to 
understand  the  words,  I  recognized  them  as 
German.  "The  Prince,"  I  thought.  Then  a 
feminine  voice,  a  sweet  contralto,  took  up  the 
words,  and  the  song  came  towards  me.  I  glanced 
again  at  Langford.  The  purple  of  his  rage  was 
giving,  way  to  the  pallor  of  his  fear. 

"  Any  reply,  sir?  "    I  asked. 

"  Yes.  Tell  your  Washington  I  said  be  damned 
to  him !  No !  No  —  wait  —  I'll  write  him  and  — 

But  I  did  not  hear  the  rest.  The  duet  had 
stopped  at  our  door,  there  was  a  burst  of  laughter 
in  which  there  was  a  note  that  set  my  pulse 
a-jumping,  and  then  the  door  opened  and  in  the 
singers  stepped.  A  prince,  evidently,  was  the 
man,  judging  by  the  decorations  he  wore;  a 
German  without  a  doubt,  by  the  nationality 


38  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

stamped  on  his  features;  a  man  of  twenty-six, 
perhaps,  rather  large  of  frame  and  florid  of  counte- 
nance; his  clothes  all  that  fashion  could  demand 
or  money  provide.  But  the  face  of  the  girl  I  had 
seen  before  —  looking  back  at  me  as  her  carriage 
had  whirled  away  in  the  dusk  and  I  had  sat  in  my 
saddle  thirsting  for  the  blood  of  her  flunkey. 

Seen  now  in  the  brilliance  of  many  candles,  I 
could  not  say  her  beauty  was  perfect.  Here  and 
there  was  an  undeniable  freckle,  but  her  blue 
eyes  looked  out  into  the  world  from  beneath 
cunningly  arched  eyebrows,  and  above  them  was 
a  forehead  as  smooth  as  velvet,  receding  back 
into  a  bounteous  mass  of  hair  that  had  the  dull 
gleam  of  copper.  But  her  eyes  were  the  most 
wonderful  into  which  I  had  ever  gazed.  Dancing 
with  merriment  as  she  entered  the  room,  as  the 
firelight  flickers  on  the  polished  andirons,  they 
suddenly  changed  as  she  caught  sight  of  me,  and 
I  saw  the  warmth  fade  and  a  look  of  cold  hauteur 
steal  into  them,  and,  carrying  out  the  figure  of 
comparison,  I  imagined  I  felt  the  chill  of  the 
frost  as  it  chased  the  firelight's  glow  from  the 
fire-dogs. 

"  Ah,  a  pardon,  Herr  Langford.  We  knew  not 
that  this  room  was  occupied."  'Twas  the  man 
who  spoke,  his  English  excellent. 


-  THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED  "    39 

"  Never  mind,  Prince,  do  not  go.  I  will  soon 
dismiss  this  —  " 

I  was  already  on  my  feet  and  sweeping  my  hat 
to  the  floor  in  my  most  gallant  obeisance  to  the 
lady,  so  I  stole  his  insult  by  an  interruption. 

"  This  messenger  from  General  Washington," 
I  exclaimed  quickly.  "  Ian  Lester,  Captain  in  the 
Continental  Army." 

For  my  speech  I  was  rewarded  by  a  burst  of 
laughter  from  the  girl,  and  its  sarcasm  penetrated 
even  my  armor,  that  I  had  prided  myself  was 
proof  against  Tory  ridicule.  I  squared  my 
shoulders,  but  could  not  hide  from  her  the  evi- 
dence that  I  was  hit,  for  my  tanned  face  had 
flushed  a  deeper  red. 

"  See,  Prince,"  she  said,  turning  to  her  com- 
panion,  "  the  man  is  really  haughty,  quite  as 
haughty   as  —  as    Erasmus,    our   generalissimo." 
And  again  there  was  a  burst  of  mocking  laughter 
that  stung  me. 

"  'Tis  because  of  a  serene  consciousness  of 
proper  demeanor,"  I  replied,  quickly.  "As  a 
soldier,  I  have  my  duties,  and  these  have  I  per- 
formed in  a  manner  that  leaves  no  reproach  on 
my  pride.  Doubtless,  your  generalissimo  is 
proud  of  the  same  freedom  from  error.  Even  so 
fair  a  lady  as  yourself  has  resting  upon  her 


40  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

shoulders  obligations  towards  those  who  are 
beneath  her  roof  by  invitation  or  by  —  duty, 
shall  I  say?  I  trust  your  haughtiness  is  born  of 
as  untroubled  a  conscience  as  mine  —  and  your 
servant's." 

I  saw  the  color  flame  to  her  cheeks  and  knew  I 
had  slipped  the  thrust  beneath  her  guard.  The 
Prince  stepped  forward  quickly,  anger  blazing  in 
every  line  of  his  features.  I  smiled  into  his  face. 

"  Gott  I  "  he  exclaimed,  his  anger  confusing  his 
English.  "  It  is  such  insult!  " 

But  the  girl  stepped  between  us,  and  though 
her  cheeks  were  still  red,  the  frost  had  left  her 
eyes. 

"  Nay,  Prince,"  she  said,  bravely.  "  Tis  but 
a  merited  rebuke!  In  truth,  he  has  a  more  civil 
tongue  than  I." 

And  I?  The  sudden  warming  glimpse  of  a 
noble  nature  melted  me  and  I  would  have  snatched 
her  hand  and  kissed  it,  but  the  harsh  voice  of 
Langford  brought  me  to  myself  again. 

"  I  must  have  time  to  consider  my  reply  to 
your  Mister  Washington!  Already  are  the  guests 
arriving  for  the  ball,  and  they  demand  my  atten- 
tion! How  will  three  to-morrow  afternoon  do?  " 

"  Your  pleasure  is  mine,  sir,"  I  replied. 

I  saw  'twas  time  I  dropped  my  decoy  letter, 


"—THE  TREE  IS  INCLINED"    41 

and  as  I  bowed  to  him  the  deed  was  done.  I 
heard  the  slightest  crinkle  of  paper  as  it  fell 
lightly  to  the  floor,  and  the  eager  light  that  leaped 
to  the  old  Tory's  eyes  told  me  that  the  bait  would 
be  seized.  The  girl  had  crossed  to  another  part 
of  the  room,  and  I  rejoiced  when  I  noted  that 
she  had  not  seen  the  paper  fall.  Somehow,  since 
her  sudden  warming  a  moment  before,  I  had 
hoped  that  she  would  not  acquiesce  in  the  pur- 
loining of  another's  papers!  Langford  hastily 
arose  to  his  feet,  and  I  turned  away  a  moment 
to  give  him  his  opportunity.  When  I  faced  him 
again  I  adjusted  my  sword  belt  and  thus,  dropping 
my  eyes,  saw  that  the  paper  no  longer  lay  on  the 
floor.  Langford  appeared  to  be  in  a  deep  study, 
and  as  I  turned  to  take  my  leave,  he  stopped  me. 

"  One  moment.  I  would  have  a  word  with  the 
Prince  first." 

He  led  the  German  aside  and  spoke  to  him 
earnestly,  and  then  the  latter  nodded  his  head. 
Langford  turned  to  me. 

"  Will  you  accept  an  invitation  to  be  my  guest 
until  I  have  prepared  my  letter  to  Washington?  " 

I  stood  dumb  with  surprise.  The  girl  turned 
quickly  and  stared  at  him  in  amazement.  My 
thoughts  were  galloping,  but  I  could  not  solve 
the  puzzle.  However,  it  seemed  that  a  stay 


42  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

beneath  Langford's  roof  might  promise  adventures 
of  some  sort,  and  as  I  was  rusting  because  of  a 
lack  of  thrills,  I  decided  to  remain. 

The  girl's  eyes  were  upon  me,  and  my  resolu- 
tion was  strengthened  when  I  saw  no  trace  of 
winter  there. 

' '  Surely, ' '  I  replied.    ' '  I  will  be  most  honored. " 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  PRESENT  MEETS  THE  PAST 

A  SERVANT  showed  me  to  a  room,  where 
I  added  a  few  touches  to  my  toilet  and 
made  ready  to  play  my  part  in  this 
strange  proceeding.  Why  should  I,  a  rough 
captain  of  Continentals,  be  asked  to  attend  this 
brilliant  affair  to  which  none  but  the  most  loyal 
subjects  of  his  Majesty,  King  George,  were  sup- 
posed to  be  bidden?  Once  had  I  urged  upon 
Langford  the  sensation  my  uniform  would  create 
in  the  ballroom  and  parlors,  but  he  replied  that 
as  'twas  a  fancy  dress  ball  all  sorts  of  characters 
would  be  represented,  and  that  my  appearance  as 
a  rebel  soldier  would  be  regarded  but  as  a  freak 
idea  of  some  young  gallant.  However,  he  added, 
with  a  cold  smile,  if  I  was  ashamed  so  to  appear 
among  ladies  and  gentlemen  I  could  either  remain 
in  seclusion  or  he  would  provide  me  with  fitter 
costume. 

If  he  had  sought  to  touch  my  pride,  he  suc- 

43 


44  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

ceeded,  and  I  thought  of  what  Rassle  had  said: 
"  Dey  mayn't  hurt  ye  bad,  but  dey'll  suhtenly 
sting  ye."  Indeed,  I  began  to  suspect  this  to  be 
his  reason  for  inviting  me.  Did  he  wish  me  to  be 
impressed  with  the  splendor  of  it  all  and  to  con- 
trast it  with  the  wretchedness  of  the  Patriot  con- 
ditions in  the  hope  that  I  would  carry  discouraging 
reports  back  to  the  army? 

"  I'll  wear  my  uniform,  sir,"  I  said,  "  and  will 
look  in  upon  the  festivities." 

Long  before  I  had  put  the  finishing  touches  to 
my  primping  I  neard  the  fiddles  sounding  in  the 
rooms  below,  and  half  an  hour  later  when  I 
descended  I  could  not  repress  an  exclamation  of 
admiration  for  the  magnificence  of  the  scene. 
The  floors  of  the  rooms  were  polished  until  they 
reflected  the  light  of  many  massive  candles,  the 
fragrance  from  a  wilderness  of  flowers  banked 
here  and  there  greeted  me;  and  the  brilliance  of 
the  silks,  satins,  brocades,  and  laces  of  both 
ladies  and  gentlemen  caused  me  to  survey  rather 
ruefully  the  blue  and  buff  of  my  poor  uniform. 

As  I  surmised,  the  appearance  of  one  in  the 
Continental  uniform  startled  the  revellers,  but  a 
moment  later  they  smiled  in  the  belief  that  'twas 
but  a  masquerade. 

I  heard  a  murmur  and  saw  a  sudden  craning  of 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    45 

necks,  and  looked  around  just  in  time  to  see 
Gayle  Langford  enter  the  room  on  the  arm  of  the 
Prince,  who  now  wore  the  full  uniform  of  a  Hessian 
colonel,  a  most  brilliant  bit  of  dress,  you  who 
know  the  conceit  of  it  will  agree.  At  his  side 
dangled  a  jewelled  sword  of  exquisite  workmanship. 
I  balk  at  the  telling  of  how  the  fair  Tory  was 
gowned,  for,  blunt  man  of  war  that  I  was,  I  had 
no  descriptive  eye  for  feminine  furbelows,  but 
this  I  know,  'twas  a  wondrously  beautiful  creation 
of  finest  fabrics,  cut  low  enough  to  reveal  a  neck 
of  perfection  and  just  a  modest  bit  of  well-turned 
shoulder.  I  confess  it,  they  were  a  distinguished, 
a  handsome  couple,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that 
I  did  think  for  a  moment  of  the  wretched  contrast 
of  the  conditions  of  the  Patriots.  Was  it  not, 
after  all,  a  foolish,  hopeless  struggle  in  which  we 
were  engaged  ?  But  I  rejoice  that  a  blush  of  shame 
for  the  harboring  of  such  fancies  soon  warmed  my 
cheek!  The  couple  at  once  became  the  centre  of 
a  chattering,  laughing  group,  at  whose  outer 
edge  I  hovered.  Then  as  the  strains  of  the  minuet 
sounded  to  the  sweep  of  the  rosined  bows  the 
group  dissolved  and  left  the  Prince  and  Mistress 
Gayle  momentarily  alone.  A  sudden  resolve 
flashed  to  my  brain,  and  with  a  few  quick  strides 
I  stood  before  her,  bowing: 


46  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  'Tis  the  minuet!  May  I  have  the  honor?  " 
1  asked. 

'Twas  a  bold  stroke,  and  I  quite  expected  the 
gasp  of  astonishment  from  the  Prince  and  the 
look  of  resentment  that  flashed  in  her  eyes.  She 
drew  back,  her  chin  uptilted  in  the  queenly 
hauteur  that  certainly  became  her  wondrously 
well. 

"  Impertinent!  "    she  exclaimed,  her  tone  icy. 

"  And  when  did  it  become  impertinence  for  a 
gentleman  to  crave  a  lady's  hand  in  the  dance?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  you,  sir!  " 

The  depth  of  scorn  in  her  voice  rather 
amused  me,  for  I  had  determined  to  humble  her 
pride. 

"  Ah,"  I  replied,  smiling,  "  your  memory  is 
poor.  But  an  hour  agone  I  had  the  honor  of 
presenting  myself,  Ian  Lester,  courier  of  his 
Excellency,  General  Washington." 

Never  an  opportunity  I  allowed  to  pass  for  the 
hurling  at  these  Tories  the  name  and  rank  of  the 
Washington  they  hated.  She  indulged  in  the 
very  feminine  practice  of  biting  her  lower  lip  and 
tapping  the  toe  of  one  daintily  slippered  foot  on 
the  floor. 

"  But  by  what  right  can  such  as  you  demand 
my  company?  " 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    47 

"Not  'demand,'  but  'beg,'  —  and  by  the 
right  of  a  guest  here  by  invitation." 

Then  fury  gathered  in  her  eyes,  and  for  a  few 
breaths  I  thought  my  throat  was  in  danger  of  a 
clutch  by  those  jewelled  fingers.  I  stepped  to 
her  side  and  offered  my  arm.  My  uniform  had 
made  me  conspicuous,  and  already  many  eyes 
were  focusing  on  us!  She  hesitated,  and  then 
fearing  to  refuse  in  the  sight  of  her  staring  guests, 
she  slipped  her  hand  within  the  crook  of  my 
elbow. 

"  Fraulein!  " 

The  Prince,  who  had  stood  stiffly  by,  clutched 
her  wrist,  but,  already  quivering  with  anger,  she 
shook  herself  free  from  his  grasp. 

"  Your  Highness  forgets  himself!  "  she  said, 
sharply.  "  Mister  Lester  is  my  father's  guest. 
Come,"  she  added,  turning  to  me,  "  they  await 
us." 

We  turned  to  take  our  places  in  the  minuet, 
but  as  we  did  so  the  Prince  flashed  me  a  look  so 
full  of  hatred  that  the  soft  cluck  of  my  sword 
trappings  was  comforting  as  I  led  the  lady 
from  his  side.  That  his  discomfiture  had  not 
escaped  the  notice  of  others  was  evident  by  the 
half-suppressed  smiles  discernible  on  many  faces 
turned  in  our  direction. 


48  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

And  then  I  forgot  all  about  the  glowering 
German  as  we  trod  the  measures  of  the  stately 
minuet.  Beautiful  women  curtsied  and  tripped 
gracefully  to  the  passionate  voice  of  the  fiddles, 
but,  forgetting  the  decision  I  had  reached  in  the 
library,  I  mentally  swore  that  none  there  could 
compare  with  Mistress  Gayle  Langford.  I  forgot 
that  she  was  an  heiress,  a  loyal  subject  of  the 
King,  and  that  I  was  but  little  more  than  pauper, 
a  rebel  against  all  she  held  dear;  I  forgot  Wash- 
ington and  the  ragged  battalions ;  I  forgot  all  but 
the  melody,  rising,  trembling,  sinking,  pleading; 
the  fragrance  of  rare  flowers  that  stole  to  my 
brain  and  robbed  my  intellect  of  its  powers; 
the  merry  quip  of  youth  and  beauty.  In  truth, 
I  came  near  forgetting  all  but  the  radiant  woman 
to  whom  I  bowed  more  profoundly  than  to  any 
other. 

"  Tis  in  the  minuet  that  the  longing  for  eternal 
youth  is  born,"  I  said. 

"  Tis  youth  itself,"  she  returned.  "  Pray  tell 
me,  what  weight  have  years  when  its  measures 
sound?  " 

Her  cheeks  were  glowing,  her  eyes  shone  with 
a  lustre  that  rivalled  the  stars  of  heaven,  and  as  I 
gazed  into  them  I  heard  a  great  crying  in  my  soul. 

"  Years?    None  —  that  is,  if  Love  be  the  scales. 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    49 

But  unless  they  be  weighed  by  heart-throbs 
they  lie  as  millstones." 

'Twas  in  the  order  of  the  dance  that  at  that 
moment  I  should  bow  to  her,  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  all  the  grace  I  could  command  was 
condensed  into  that  obeisance. 

"  And,  sir,  'twould  seem  that  in  the  song  of  the 
fiddles  there  is  that  which  oils  the  hinges  of  the 
tongue  and  places  thereon  pretty  speeches." 

"  Ah,  Mistress  Langford,  'tis  even  so,  but  first 
doth  the  music  carry  the  open  sesame  to  the 
heart  and  release  that  which  speeds  to  the  tongue." 

"  In  graceful  flattery." 

"  Nay  —  in  awkward  honesty." 

The  music  stopped.  There  was  a  burst  of 
applause,  in  which  my  companion  joined,  but  the 
musicians  refused  to  continue  the  number.  I 
drew  Gayle  Langford's  hand  within  my  arm  and 
led  her  away. 

"  'Twas  cruel  in  them  to  hush  the  fiddles,"  I 
said. 

She  made  no  reply,  and  glancing  at  her,  I  saw 
that  the  glow  was  dying  from  her  cheeks,  the 
enchantment  of  the  music  slowly  fading.  We 
passed  behind  an  embankment  of  roses,  and  she 
suddenly  snatched  her  hand  from  my  arm.  In 
surprise  I  turned  to  her. 


So  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Permit  me  to  find  you  a  seat,"  I  said. 

"Leave  me  at  once!"  she  cried.  "I  —  I 
hate  you!  Do  you  hear,  sir?  I  hate  you,  you 
rebel!  " 

I  stood  staring',  not  yet  fully  aroused  from  my 
fool's  paradise  into  which  I  had  been  wooed  by 
the  minuet.  The  next  instant  she  had  brushed 
aside  a  curtain  and  disappeared  within  another 
room.  Ah,  well,  it  was  no  more  than  I  should 
have  expected,  so  what  need  to  stand  there  like 
a  bumpkin? 

I  strolled  leisurely  about,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  flip  a  jest  with  some  inquisitive  gallant 
who  wondered  at  my  uniform,  and  now  and  then 
I  ogled  pretty  girls  who  from  behind  their  fans 
sought  conquest  by  dimpling  cheeks  and  arching 
brows.  I  wonder  if  'tis  sin  that  my  pulse  still 
quickens  at  the  arching  of  a  brow  and  the  coy 
challenge  of  a  smile? 

Once  I  peeped  into  a  room  and  saw  old  Peter 
Langford  seated  at  a  table,  several  other  men 
leaning  forward  to  hear  what  he  was  saying.  In 
his  hands  he  held  a  paper,  and  I  had  no  doubt 
that  it  was  the  one  I  had  dropped  on  his  library- 
floor.  Evidently  a  council  was  being  held  by  a 
few  trusted  spirits,  and  I  would  have  chanced 
much  to  learn  what  was  being  said,  but  it  was 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST     51 

impossible,  for  guests  were  constantly  passing,  and 
even  as  I  peeped  into  the  room  I  knew  that  I 
was  observed  by  those  without.  Therefore,  I 
dared  not  hesitate,  but  passed  on.  I  did  not  care 
to  return  to  the  ballroom.  There  I  had  accom- 
plished more  than  I  had  hoped.  Now  for  seclusion 
and  a  chance  for  thought. 

I  heard  voices  in  a  near-by  room  and,  finding 
the  door  half -open,  looked  in.  A  cloud  of  fragrant 
tobacco  smoke  was  rising,  and  about  the  room 
three  men  were  lounging,  pipes  in  mouths. 

"  Your  pardon,  gentlemen.    Do  I  intrude?  " 

"  Intrude?  No,  no;  a  welcome,  sir,  and  a  pipe 
if  you  say  the  word." 

Thus  invited,  I  entered,  and,  taking  a  pipe  from 
the  mantel,  filled  it  and  settled  back  in  content- 
ment. 

"My   name   is    Boyd  —  Richard   Boyd,    and 
these,  Thomas  Dunn  and  Harry  Thornton,  all  of 
Philadelphia,   and   loyal   to   the   heart   to   King 
George,"  said  one,  gaily. 

It  was  a  direct  invitation  for  me  to  introduce 
myself.  I  blew  a  ring  of  smoke  and  watched  it 
widen.  Then  I  replied: 

"  These  many  times  to-night  have  I  presented 
myself,  and  will  I  do  it  again.  Gentlemen,  your 
servant,  Ian  Lester,  Captain  in  the  Continental 


52  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

army,  courier  for  General  Washington ,  and  to  the 
last  drop  of  blood  in  my  heart  loyal  to  the  cause 
of  American  liberty!  " 

I  sent  two  more  smoke  rings  floating  towards 
the  ceiling  before  the  silence  that  followed  was 
broken.  Then  Boyd  smote  his  thigh  with  his 
palm  and,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  roared 
with  laughter,  in  which  his  companions  quickly 
joined. 

"  Good!  "  he  shouted.  "  'Fore  God,  you're  a 
good  one,  sir.  You  have  taught  us  how  to  mas- 
querade. Here  you,  Dunn,  —  you  with  your 
brigand's  garb,  —  learn  wisdom  from  our  friend. 
Instead  of  merely  looking  fierce,  you  should  stick 
to  your  role  and  lift  the  purses  of  all  you 
meet." 

I  smiled,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  raillery,  in 
which  I  am  sure  I  gave  full  measure  in  return 
for  all  I  received,  the  trio  knocked  the  ashes  from 
their  pipes,  and  declared  their  intentions  of 
seeking  the  ladies. 

"  And,  mayhap,  a  buss  from  rosy  lips,  in  the 
garden,  eh,  my  Captain?  "  And  Boyd  slapped 
me  on  the  shoulder  as  they  went  out. 

I  was  grateful  for  being  left  alone,  and  allowed 
my  thoughts  to  riot  as  I  drew  the  smoke  in  long, 
full  whiffs.  A  window  opened  out  into  the 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    53 

grounds  lighted  here  and  there  by  lanterns,  and 
occasionally  bursts  of  song  and  laughter  would 
float  in  from  those  who  had  deserted  the  ball- 
room for  the  cool  pleasures  of  a  promenade 
beneath  the  trees  —  and,  mayhap,  a  buss  from 
rosy  lips. 

The  cry  of  a  night-bird  came  to  me  and  made 
me  lonely,  for  it  brought  vividly  to  my  mind  a 
night  scout  I  had  made  some  months  before  with 
Lieutenant  Wilson,  and  how  we  had  agreed  on  an 
imitation  of  a  night-bird's  cry  as  a  signal.  But 
Wilson,  poor  fellow,  failed  in  his  sounding  of  the 
signal,  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing,  and  was 
riddled  by  bullets  from  a  British  outpost  the 
next  instant,  while  I  had  the  devil's  own  ride  in 
escaping.  The  war  had  but  fairly  begun ;  I  knew 
that.  It  must  be  years  ere  peace  could  come. 
And  would  it  be  peace  with  liberty,  or  would  it 
be  peace  with  tyranny?  And  would  I  witness 
the  sheathing  of  the  sword,  or  would  my  bones 
lie  in  some  unmarked  spot,  as  would,  of  a  certainty, 
the  skeletons  of  hundreds  no  less  entitled  to  life 
and  happiness  than  I?  I  had  been  impatient  to 
draw  the  sword,  'tis  true,  but,  after  all,  was  not 
the  cost  to  be  greater  than  I  had  recked?  But  I 
had  been  right,  I  told  myself;  the  birth  of  a 
nation  must  be  in  blood  and  agony.  I  blew 


54  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

other  rings,  and  then  turned  my  head  to  see  the 
Prince  standing  in  the  doorway,  his  hands  on  his 
hips,  regarding  me  with  a  cold  stare. 

"  All  alone,  your  Highness,  won't  you  join  me? 
I've  been  deserted  by  my  friends,  Tom,  Dick, 
and  Harry."  I  smiled  at  my  jest,  but  the  German 
ignored  it. 

"  Herr  Lester  is  light  of  heart,"  he  said,  coming 
in  and  seating  himself  facing  me. 

"  Assuredly.    Gloom  is  the  heritage  of  defeat." 

Again  I  smiled  at  him,  and  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  his  lips  tighten.  'Twas  evident  he 
remembered  the  minuet. 

"  And  does  not  the  shadow  of  the  traitor's 
gallows  to  your  heart  uneasiness  bring?  " 

"  True  it  is,  your  Highness,  that  definitions 
alter  with  the  prejudices  of  the  definer.  By  the 
King's  men  I  am  called  a  traitor;  by  the  lovers 
of  liberty  I  am  called  a  Patriot." 

A  sardonic  smile  parted  his  lips  and  his  hands 
were  raised  to  his  throat  in  significant  pantomime. 

"  Ach!  "   he  exclaimed.   "  Patriot  be  it  then  - 
but  the  rope  will  be  as  rough !    The  noose  strangles 
definitions!  " 

I  would  not  be  truthful  did  I  not  confess  to  the 
chill  that  crept  up  my  spine  at  the  picture  he 
drew  so  vividly  with  word  and  gesture,  but  I  am 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST     55 

certain  that  naught  but  indifference  was  in  my 
face  as  I  puffed  at  my  pipe. 

"  Bullet  or  noose,  'tis  but  a  fleeting  difference," 
I  said.  "  Frankly,  I  prefer  neither,  but  the  choice 
is  not  mine.  I  yielded  that  when  I  drew  the 
sword.  And,  after  all,  what  matters  a  few  years 
more  or  less  of  breathing?  Will  not  my  rest  be 
as  peaceful  if  it  comes  next  week  instead  of  next 
year?  " 

"  But  it  is  folly,  Herr  Lester.  Think  you  that 
your  jealous  mobs  can  conquer  the  trained  soldiers 
of  his  Majesty,  the  King?  " 

"  We  shall  have  help  —  " 

"  Bah!     France  will  not  aid  you." 

-From  God,"   I  said,  as  though  concluding 
my  interrupted  sentence. 

I  knew  that  what  he  said  was  truth.  The  eyes 
of  the  Patriot  leaders  were  turned  to  France,  but 
that  wily  nation  had  so  far  given  no  sign  of  notic- 
ing our  appeal  for  help  in  the  crisis  into  which 
she  had  undoubtedly  encouraged  us  to  enter. 

"  God  will  not  produce  men  and  muskets 
where  none  exist,"  he  replied  with  biting  sarcasm. 

"  But  perhaps  He  will  create  a  storm  and  drown 
some  of  these  cursed  Hessians  that  are  sailing 
to  America  to  fight  us  because  George  Third 
bought  them  at  seven  pounds  per  head!"  I 


56  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

retorted,  and  then  let  my  eyes  slowly  roam  over 
the  gorgeous  uniform  he  wore. 

He  gasped  out  something  in  German  that  had 
no  meaning  to  me,  but  by  the  flush  in  his  face 
and  the  angry  gleam  of  his  eyes,  I  felt  assured  I 
was  not  missing  any  compliments  by  not  under- 
standing that  language.  That  he  had  sought  me 
for  the  purpose  of  picking  a  quarrel  I  had  no 
doubt,  and  I  cannot  say  I  was  displeased. 

"  Enough  of  this!  "  he  exclaimed,  hotly.  "  I 
have  come  to  ask  if  an  apology  you  have  made 
to  Fraulein  Langford?  " 

"  Apology?     Certainly  not.     For  what?  " 

"  For  the  impertinence  of  the  minuet,  you 
Colonial  clown !  She  is  not  for  such  pauper  rebels 
as  you!  " 

"  Nor  for  such  bankrupt  titles  as  you!  "  I 
shouted,  exasperated  beyond  all  control. 

"  You  have  a  tongue  like  a  rapier!  "   he  hissed. 

"  And  an  arm  like  hickory!  "    I  hurled  back. 

In  an  instant  we  were  on  our  feet,  and  our 
blades  flashed  in  the  candle-light  as  he  lunged  at 
me  and  I  parried.  The  table  was  between  us,  but 
I  grabbed  it  with  my  left  hand  and  sent  it  crash- 
ing, pipes,  tobacco,  and  all,  into  the  corner,  and 
then  we  leaped  at  each  other,  the  lust  of  death  in 
our  veins.  There  was  one  clash,  and  then  — 


' '  Gentlemen  !  ' ' 

Between  us  darted  Gayle  Langford  so  recklessly 
that  she  came  near  being  spitted  on  my  steel. 

Instantly  the  blades  were  lowered,  and  as  she 
turned  on  us  those  wonderful  eyes,  now  flashing 
with  indignation,  I  flung  my  sword  on  the  floor 
and  dropped  my  head. 

"  I  know  I  am  beyond  pardon,  Mistress  Lang- 
ford,  for  brawling  beneath  your  roof,  yet  wTould  I 
crave  leniency  of  condemnation." 

"  She  saved  your  worthless  life,  rebel!  "  rasped 
the  Prince. 

I  thought  she  would  rebuke  him  for  his  lack  of 
manners  in  her  presence,  but,  heigho!  I  had 
reckoned  without  her  sex,  for  she  simply  slipped 
her  hand  within  the  crook  of  his  arm  and  turned 
her  back  to  me. 

"  Prince,  my  father  has  asked  me  to  fetch  you," 
she  said,  and  they  walked  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
me  standing  there  as  though  I  were  one  of  the 
servants.  But  even  in  that  moment  of  humiliation 
I  admired  the  proud  poise  of  her  head,  the  glimpse 
of  snowy  shoulder  — but  I  cursed  the  broad 
shoulders  beside  her  that  were  gaudy  with  Hes- 
sian colors. 

If  she  had  but  delayed,  I  growled  to  myself,  I 
would  have  slit  that  finery  over  his  jealous  heart. 


58  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

But  the  thought  brought  a  smile.  What  under 
heaven  was  the  prig  jealous  of?  Of  me,  a  pauper 
rebel?  The  smile  broadened  into  a  chuckle,  and 
'twas  in  a  right  good  humor  that  I  picked  up  my 
sword  from  the  floor  and  began  righting  the 
table.  He  might  rest  easy;  I  wanted  none  of 
that  little  Tory  spitfire  in  mine. 

I  was  of  a  mind  to  return  to  the  ballroom  and 
make  bold  with  my  eyes  and  my  bows  should  I 
trap  a  flirtatious  smile  —  and  mayhap  'twould 
lead  to  a  stroll  beneath  the  trees,  and  a  buss  from 
rosy  lips.  My  sword  was  my  country's,  but  my 
arms  and  my  lips  —  ah,  well,  they  were  for 
Loyalist  and  Patriot  alike,  providing  the  Loyalist 
or  Patriot  were  youngish  and  fair.  Indeed,  I 
believe  I  would  have  gone  forthwith  on  my 
scandalous  mission  of  amours  had  not  Boyd 
popped  his  head  into  the  room  at  that  moment. 

"  Hello!  "  he  cried,  cheerily.  "  The  Continen- 
tals are  still  intrenched  here,  are  they?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  smoking  the  pipe  of  peace," 
and  I  pointed  to  the  tobacco. 

"  Well,  it's  a  devilish  shame  the  Colonists  and 
King  George  can't  do  that,"  he  replied.  "  Damn 
me  —  er  —  Captain  Lester,  I  believe  you  said  — 
if  I  don't  half  sympathize  with  these  ragged  chaps 
who  are  following  Washington!  " 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    59 

"  Boyd,  do  you  mean  that?  "  I  cried,  springing 
forward  and  clutching  him  by  the  shoulder. 

He  met  my  eyes  unflinchingly.  "  I  suppose  it's 
treason,  sir,  but  I'm  man  enough  to  swear  I  mean 
it,  though  but  an  hour  ago  I  swore  my  loyalty 
to  the  King.  I  tell  you  again,  as  freely  as  though 
you  were  what  your  cloth  proclaims  you,  I  half  - 
aye,  more  than  half  —  sympathize  with  Wash- 
ington's cause." 

I  seized  his  hand.      "  Boyd! "     I   exclaimed. 
"  Boyd,  I  am  what  my  cloth  proclaims,  a  Conti- 
nental captain.    The  cause  needs  men  like  you  - 
needs  you.     Decide!  " 

He  stared  at  me,  and  I  felt  his  hand  trembling 
with  the  emotions  that  were  sweeping  over  him, 
with  the  fires  of  patriotism  that  were  kindling  in 
his  soul.  Ah,  'twas  a  bold  thing  in  those  days 
to  make  declaration  as  he  had,  and  'twas  a  leap 
into  untold  dangers  to  spring  forth  from  the 
ranks  of  the  King's  men  into  the  undisciplined, 
ill-equipped,  gloomy  lines  of  Continentals. 

"  And  now  a  horde  of  Hessian  hirelings  are  to 
be  set  upon  Americans  fighting  for  —  justice, 
they  say  now ;  after  to-morrow  —  independence !  " 
He  had  turned  to  the  window  and  was  looking 
out  into  the  gardens,  his  forehead  wrinkled  as 
though  with  deep  study. 


60  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Independence  —  to-morrow?  "  I  cried. 

"  Aye,  to-morrow,  I  doubt  not,  Congress  will 
pass  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  then 
men  must  choose  whether  they  are  for  liberty 
or  the  bondage  of  a  king's  will.  There  can  be 
no  middle  ground." 

"  And  you,  Boyd?    Are  you  not  with  us?  " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  turned 
towards  me,  his  shoulders  squared,  his  head  erect, 
his  eyes  unwavering,  and  when  he  spoke  his 
voice  was  steady,  his  tones  even. 

"  Lester,  by  the  God  above  me,  I  am  with  you !  " 

Then  his  hand  met  mine,  and  I  knew  that  so 
long  as  breath  remained  in  our  bodies  we  were  to 
be  friends. 

A  blast  rang  through  the  mansion,  and  a 
moment  later  was  sounding  through  the  gardens. 

"  The  summons  to  the  banquet  table,"  said 
Boyd.  "  Come,  you  have  no  lady;  neither  have 
I.  Together  let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for 
to-morrow  —  tyranny  dies!  " 

Our  laughs  rang  together  as  he  linked  his  arm 
with  mine  and  led  me  to  the  feast. 

Ah,  'twas  an  assemblage  of  wealth  and  fashion 
and  beauty  that  sat  at  table  within  that  grand 
hall.  The  gorgeous  costumes  of  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  the  flashing  of  the  candles'  light  on 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    61 

the  gold  and  silver  of  the  table  service,  the  gar- 
lands of  fragrant  roses,  the  corps  of  black  servants 
in  brilliant  liveries,  formed  a  picture  I'll  never 
forget.  And  Erasmus,  the  generalissimo,  looking 
"  monstrous  grand,"  stood  near  by,  directing  the 
servants,  though  he  near  forgot  his  duties  in 
astonishment  when  he  saw  me  striding  down  the 
room  in  the  full  regimentals  of  a  rebel.  But  far 
be  it  from  me  to  attempt  to  tell  you  of  the  edibles 
set  before  us  at  that  gathering.  Though  I  had 
been  well  born  and  reared,  I  had  to  confess  my 
ignorance  as  to  the  composition  of  many  of  the 
chef's  concoctions,  but  they  were  all  tasty,  and 
as  my  appetite  had  become  quite  vigorous  by 
reason  of  months  of  campaigning  with  rations 
always  an  after  consideration,  I  heeded  but  little 
the  quip  and  jest  that  darted  back  and  forth, 
across  and  around  the  table,  frequently  with 
"  the  rebel  "  as  the  butt  of  it,  but  devoted  my 
attention  to  the  getting  of  a  good  supper.  I 
knew  not  what  might  lie  before  me,  but  did  know 
that  a  well-nourished  body  was  a  mighty  bulwark 
for  the  intrenchment  of  a  dauntless  spiiit,  and 
if  the  Tories  chose  to  help  strengthen  this  bul- 
wark —  well,  'twas  satisfactory  to  me. 

At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  Peter  Langford, 
his    flushed   face   in   striking   contrast   with   the 


62  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

powdered  whiteness  of  his  hair.  At  the  opposite 
end  of  the  table  sat  his  wife,  a  proud,  imperious- 
appearing  lady  of  sixty  years,  fashionably  gowned 
in  all  the  frills  of  the  day.  At  the  right  hand  of 
Langford  sat  his  daughter,  and  beside  her  the 
Prince.  Not  once  did  I  catch  the  girl's  eyes  on 
me.  But  the  Prince!  'Twere  well  that  looks 
were  not  rapiers,  else  had  I  perished  from  his 
eyes  ere  we  had  been  at  table  a  moment. 

As  the  banquet  proceeded  and  the  wine  quick- 
ened the  blood,  the  merriment  increased  until 
the  serving  was  interspersed  with  bedlam.  The 
Prince  was  called  on  and  responded  with  a  Ger- 
man ballad  that  might  as  well  have  been  Greek 
so  far  as  my  understanding  was  concerned,  but 
truth  compels  me  to  say  that  the  fellow  had  a 
splendid  voice,  and  rendered  the  song  so  exceed- 
ingly well  that  even  I  joined  in  the  hand-clapping, 
though  he  shot  me  another  rapier  from  his  eyes 
as  my  reward.  Then  above  the  general  hubbub 
there  was  a  cry  for  a  toast  from  Mistress  Langford. 
She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  arose  to  her 
feet,  wine-glass  in  hand.  Instantly  there  was 
silence.  Then  her  glass  was  raised. 

"Long  live  King  George!"  she  cried,  and 
kissed  the  goblet. 

At  the  same  moment,  for  the  first  time  during 


the  banquet,  her  eyes  shot  to  mine  and  held  there, 
defiance  and  scorn  eloquent  in  their  glorious 
depths  (for  I  felt  that  they  were  glorious,  even 
in  that  moment).  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her 
chin  tip-tilted,  a  challenge  to  me  in  every  fibre  of 
her  being. 

At  once,  in  response  to  her  toast,  the  merry- 
makers sprang  to  their  feet,  and  amid  the  chorus 
of  "  Long  live  King  George!  "  the  glasses  were 
drained. 

Impulsively,  I  had  half -risen  to  my  feet,  but  as 
her  challenge  flashed  to  me,  I  deliberately  re- 
sumed my  seat  and  set  my  glass,  untouched  by 
my  lips,  on  the  table.  I  thought  I  saw  a  change 
in  her  bearing  as  I  did  so,  but  whether  of  admira- 
tion for  my  audacity  or  of  disdain  I  could  not  tell. 
In  truth,  my  brain  was  busy  with  another  problem 
that  had  suddenly  been  born  to  it  in  her  toast, 
"  Long  live  King  George."  That  cry  brought 
back  something  —  but  what  was  it?  From  some 
niche  in  the  past  that  cry,  that  voice  seemed  to 
be  coming  to  me  as  an  echo.  I  struggled  to 
sweep  the  cobwebs  of  years  from  the  chambers 
of  memory,  but  'twas  baffling.  I  heeded  not  the 
stare  of  the  crowd  as  they  noted  my  refusal  of  the 
toast;  I  heard  not  the  whispers  and  murmurs;  I 
was  harking  to  the  voice  of  memory;  I  was 


64  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

travelling  back  through  the  years,  probing,  search- 
ing for  the  echo. 

In  my  perplexity  I  ran  my  fingers  through  my 
hair,  and  as  I  did  so  I  felt  the  jagged  scar  beneath 
my  forelock,  and  then  —  I  gasped  as  I  suddenly 
raised  my  eyes  and  looked  again  into  her  face.  I 
was  a  boy  again,  wounded  and  faint  and  sorrow- 
ing, marching  through  Boston's  streets  close- 
guarded  by  files  of  British  soldiers,  and  I  felt  the 
sting  of  a  pebble  thrown  at  me  by  a  freckle-faced, 
straw-haired  little  girl  who  shouted  at  me,  "  Long 
live  King  George!  "  and  then  burst  into  tears  at 
sight  of  the  dead  borne  close  behind  me.  Aye, 
the  past  and  present  were  united  now  in  the 
person  of  this  Tory  maid. 

"  The  Captain  drinks  not  the  toast,"  said  the 
Prince,  and  I  heard  him. 

"  No,  and  it  could  not  be  expected  that  I 
would.  'Twould  choke  in  my  throat,"  I  responded. 

The  company  were  mostly  seated  again,  and 
Boyd,  leaning  toward  me,  whispered: 

"  Lester,  I  smell  a  rowr!  " 

"  In  truth,  I  like  the  scent,"  I  retorted,  and  he 
subsided. 

"  Ach!  It  is  in  keeping  with  the  rebel  uniform 
that  the  wearer  lacks  breeding,  and  insults  by 
refusing  a  lady's  toast." 


PRESENT   MEETS    THE    PAST    65 

That  the  German  was  trying  to  provoke  me  to 
disgracing  myself  I  realized.  That  he  sought  to 
force  me  to  a  duel  I  believed.  Of  the  former  I 
was  chary,  for  the  latter  I  was  hotly  impatient. 
Had  I  been  close  I  would  have  dashed  my  wine 
in  his  face,  but  as  it  was  I  arose  to  my  feet, 
choking  down  my  anger  and  forcing  a  smile. 

"  Your  Highness,  and  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I 
said,  bowing,  "  I  will  drink  the  lady's  toast  if  she 
and  you  will  drink  one  I  shall  propose." 

"Agreed!"  "Agreed!"  The  cries  arose  from 
all  sides. 

I  raised  my  wine-glass  and  drained  it.  Then  I 
exclaimed : 

"  'Tis  a  toast  in  two  parts,  and,  sirs  and  ladies, 
did  this  goblet  contain  my  heart's  blood  I  would 
drink  it.  Here's  success  to  General  George 
Washington!  " 

An  angry  murmur  arose. 

"  Drink!  "  I  cried.    "  Your  words  are  passed!  " 

With  a  laugh,  many  of  them  raised  their  glasses 
and  gulped  the  toast. 

"  And  now  for  the  second  part."  I  picked  up 
a  glass  of  water  and  raised  it  high,  and  then 
looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Gayle  Langford. 

"  God  rest  the  souls  of  the  Eagle's  men!  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

RED  ROSES 

EVEN  now  I  cannot  keep  from  my  face  the 
smiles  as  I  recall  the  effect  of  my  toast. 
Mistress  Gayle  Langford  I  thought  was 
near  to  swooning  when  I  mentioned  the  Eagle. 
She  started  from  her  seat  and  reached  out  her 
hands  towards  me,  much  as  a  mother  would  in 
imploring  a  child,  and  I  heard  her  moan  as  though 
stricken.  Tis  not  this  recollection  that  stirs  my 
risibles,  but  the  commotion  that  followed.  Men 
were  on  their  feet  and  surging  towards  me, 
clamoring  excitedly,  the  Prince  hurling  German 
curses  at  my  head  and  imploring  the  mob,  for  it 
was  but  little  less  by  now,  to  let  him  reach  me 
with  his  blade. 

"  Aye,  let  the  Hessian  peacock  sink  his  steel 
in  one  who  scorns  to  draw  a  blade  in  the  presence 
of  such  a  company!  "  I  cried,  standing  erect 
with  my  arms  folded,  and  the  speech  won  me 
friends,  for  some  of  the  cooler  heads,  now  heartily 

66 


RED   ROSES  67 

ashamed  of  the  riot  they  had  begun  in  the  banquet- 
hall,  began  calming  those  about  them. 

I  saw  Gayle  Langford  lay  her  hand  on  the 
Prince's  shoulder,  and  her  lips  moved  quickly  as 
though  in  sharp  reprimand,  though  her  words  did 
not  reach  me.  The  German  hesitated,  and  then, 
replacing  his  sword,  turned  sullenly  towards  the 
table  and  sat  down.  Peter  Langford  had  pleaded 
for  quiet,  and  now  he  resumed  his  seat.  And 
then  I  chanced  to  catch  sight  of  Erasmus,  who 
stood  in  his  corner,  arms  uplifted,  and  such  a 
comical  look  of  terror  on  his  black  face  as  he 
looked  into  my  eyes  that  I  laughed  outright,  and 
again  took  my  place  at  the  table. 

"  'Fore  God,  Lester,  are  they  all  like  you?  " 
whispered  Boyd,  and  I  knew  he  meant  the 
Patriots. 

"  Luckily,  no,"  I  answered.  "  Fear  not, 
friend;  the  rest  are  sane." 

"  Heaven  be  praised!  "  he  breathed  fervently. 

Perhaps  'tis  useless  to  say  that  the  banquet 
came  soon  to  an  end  after  that,  and  I  doubted  not 
that  old  Peter  Langford  would  send  me  marching 
down  the  walk  and  out  the  gate  with  scant 
ceremony.  Therefore  it  was  with  amazement 
that,  half  an  hour  later,  I  received  the  message 
borne  to  me  by  a  servant  as  I  sat  in  the  smoking- 


68  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

room  watching  the  card  play  of  a  quartet  of  young 
bloods  who  had  forgotten  the  cyclone  of  the 
banquet  in  the  fever  of  gambling.  Mr.  Langford 
knew  I  must  be  tired,  said  the  servant  in  his  own 
way,  and  my  room  was  ready  for  me. 

Knocking  the  ashes  from  my  pipe,  I  bade  the 
gamblers  a  courteous  good  night,  though,  in  truth, 
a  good  morning  were  more  fitting,  and  followed 
my  guide.  The  room  to  which  he  showed  me  was 
on  the  second  floor,  one  of  several  opening  off 
a  long  hall.  The  interior  —  but  you  care  naught 
for  that,  as  it  has  no  bearing  on  this  tale.  Let  me 
simply  say  that  'twas  handsomely  furnished,  with 
the  great  bed  looking  especially  inviting  to  a  tired 
soldier.  The  servant  lighted  my  candles  and 
then  bowed  himself  from  my  presence,  hoping 
"  dat  de  bright  spirits  would  stay  wif  me."  I 
threw  my  sword  on  the  bed,  and  then  went  to  the 
window.  'Twas  a  matter  of  pleasure  to  me  that  I 
found  a  long  veranda  on  that  side  of  the  house, 
and  I  was  not  long  in  availing  myself  of  the  com- 
forts it  offered  on  such  a  fine  midsummer  night. 
Comfortably  seated  near  its  rail,  I  would  have 
given  much  for  a  pipe  and  tobacco,  but  none  had 
I.  The  town  was  dark,  except  here  and  there  a 
flickering  lantern  marking  a  street  corner,  but  the 
moon  was  peeping  up  over  a  church  tower  on  the 


RED   ROSES  69 

far  side  of  the  town,  and  it  would  not  be  long 
until  Philadelphia  would  be  reclaimed  from  the 
darkness. 

The  party  was  breaking  up,  and  groups  were 
leaving,  singing,  laughing,  shouting  on  their  way 
to  where  the  carriages  awaited  them,  a  black 
servant  with  a  sonorous  voice  standing  at  the 
gateway  bawling  out  the  calls  to  the  drivers. 
Indeed,  'twas  an  animated  scene,  but,  hardy 
soldier  though  I  was,  I  was  beginning  to  confess  to 
myself  a  great  weariness,  and,  returning  to  the 
room,  I  prepared  for  rest.  My  clothes  I  piled  on 
the  chair,  man  fashion ;  my  sword  I  placed  within 
reach,  as  years  of  turmoil  and  danger  had  taught 
me.  The  servant  had  spread  out  on  the  bed  a 
long,  linen  nightshirt,  and  this  I  donned,  con- 
fident that  the  royal  arms  worked  on  the  collar 
in  scarlet  silk  would  not  prevent  my  sleeping 
soundly.  Then  I  stretched  myself  out  with  a 
sigh  of  comfort,  and  my  last  conscious  moment 
was  filled  with  the  bawling  of  the  negro  at  the  gate. 

But  peaceful  slumber  was  not  to  be  the  portion 
of  Ian  Lester  that  night,  though  I  must  have 
slept  at  least  two  hours  before  I  suddenly  sat  bolt 
upright,  listening  and  peering  about  me.  Surely 
I  had  not  entangled  the  shout  of  the  negro  in  my 
dreams ! 


70  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

God,  no !  My  heart  almost  thumped  itself  to  my 
teeth  as  a  scream  rang  through  the  mansion,  a 
woman's  cry  of  terror.  In  a  trice  I  had  flung  the 
covers  from  me,  and,  sword  in  hand,  was  shooting 
back  the  bolts  of  my  hall  door.  And  now  I  knew 
that  the  trouble  was  in  an  adjoining  room,  for  as 
I  sprang  into  the  hallway  I  heard  a  man's  voice : 

"  Hush,  damn  you!  Hush!  It's  a  mistake,  I 
tell  you!" 

There  was  another  scream,  which  quickly  died 
away  in  a  gurgle.  I  heard  the  sounds  of  a  struggle 
and  knew  that  the  fellow  was  choking  the  woman 
into  silence.  By  this  time  I  was  at  the  door, 
twisting  and  rattling  at  the  knob,  but  the  bolts 
were  in  place  on  the  inside,  and  I  am  afraid  that  I 
swore  terribly.  Then  I  stepped  back  and  flung 
my  weight  against  the  panels.  Of  a  surety,  they 
would  have  been  stout  bolts  that  had  withstood 
that  human  battering-ram,  and  these  were  not 
equal  to  task.  As  a  result,  I  went  to  my  knees 
on  the  floor  of  the  room  by  reason  of  the  force 
with  which  I  had  come  through  the  doorway, 
but  in  a  moment  I  was  on  my  feet.  As  I  plunged 
into  the  room  I  saw  by  the  moonlight  a  man 
bending  over  the  bed,  struggling  with  the  occu- 
pant, but  as  I  regained  my  feet  he  turned  and 
sprang  through  the  open  window  on  to  the  veranda. 


RED   ROSES  71 

I  was  but  a  short  bound  behind  him,  and  in  time 
to  hear  a  voice  from  the  shadows  below  cursing 
him. 

"  The  next  room,  you  blundering  ass!  " 

I  would  have  sworn  that  'twas  the  voice  of  the 
Prince,  but  I  had  no  time  for  tone  analysis,  for 
the  prowler  suddenly  whirled  and  faced  me. 

"  I'll  kill  you,  you  meddler!  "  he  rasped. 

His  sword  leaped  from  its  sheath,  and  in  a 
moment  we  were  fighting  merrily  on  the  veranda 
in  the  moonlight.  His  face  I  could  not  see  for  a 
dark  mask  he  wore,  but  that  his  eyes  were  sharp 
and  his  wrist  supple  I  soon  found.  A  night-robe 
is  a  poor  garb  for  a  test  of  steel,  and  the  uncertain 
light  of  the  moon,  with  many  shadows,  is  apt  to 
bring  grief  to  the  best  of  swordsmen,  and  so  I 
found  that  'twas  no  child's  play  that  lay  before 
me. 

Backward  and  forward  we  fought  without  a 
sound  save  the  harsh  clash  and  ring  of  steel  meet- 
ing steel.  Once  the  fellow  stepped  into  a  shadow, 
and  then  lunged  at  me  so  suddenly  that  he  passed 
my  guard  and  would  have  run  me  through  had  I 
not  had  nimble  feet  and  sprung  aside,  though  the 
blade  ripped  through  my  robe  and  tickled  my 
ribs  in  the  passing.  I  thought  it  strange  that  none 
of  the  men  of  the  household  came  to  help  me, 


72  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

though  I  heard  voices  behind  me  in  the  room 
from  which  I  had  chased  the  knave.  Not  that  I 
was  faint  of  heart,  but  it  seemed  the  natural  thing 
to  expect. 

The  cowardly  thrust  from  the  shadows  stung 
me  to  an  anger  I  had  not  previously  felt,  and  I 
went  to  the  attack  so  furiously  that  the  fellow 
was  soon  beaten  from  his  refuge  of  gloom.  Once 
I  heard  a  sharp  gasp  as  of  pain  and  was  certain 
that  I  had  pinked  him,  but  the  play  of  his  blade 
never  faltered.  However,  I  steadily  forced  him 
backward  across  the  veranda,  and  presently  I  noted 
with  delight  that  his  breathing  was  becoming 
labored  and  his  stroke  less  true.  I,  myself,  was 
tiring  of  the  struggle,  but  my  hardy  life  had  made 
me  the  physical  superior  of  this  fellow,  who, 
doubtless,  was  much  given  to  the  wine- cup.  With 
this  new  inspiration,  I  pressed  him  still  harder, 
and  though  he  fought  now  almost  entirely  on  the 
defensive,  I  could  not  reach  him  until  I  resorted 
to  a  trick.  Feinting  a  thrust,  I  caused  his  blade 
to  drop  in  guarding,  and  then,  stepping  widely  to 
the  left  at  the  same  moment,  I  lunged  straight  at 
his  heart.  He  was  a  wary  rascal  else  had  I 
finished  him  there,  but  his  blade  flashed  up  in 
time  to  turn  my  point  from  his  breast  and  save 
himself  from  a  fatal  stroke,  but  the  force  I  had 


RED    ROSES  73 

put  into  it  was  too  great  to  be  far  deflected,  and 
his  back-handed  parry  served  but  to  guide  my 
point  to  his  right  shoulder,  and  there  it  sank  deep. 
He  screamed  with  pain,  and  then,  suddenly  leap- 
ing backward,  he  vaulted  over  the  veranda  rail 
before  I  could  reach  him,  and  I  heard  him  strike 
the  ground  heavily. 

Now  thoroughly  determined  to  have  the  fellow, 
I  also  sprang  to  the  rail,  but  the  distance  was  too 
great  and  I  hesitated  to  take  the  leap.  But  the 
posts  were  thickly  entwined  with  vines,  and, 
grasping  these,  I  lowered  myself  to  the  ground. 
I  remember  smiling  as  I  did  so  at  the  fright  that 
would  result  should  one  of  the  blacks  chance  to 
see  that  white-robed  apparition,  a  gleaming  sword 
in  its  teeth,  swinging  and  swaying  between 
heaven  and  earth.  But  when  I  reached  the 
ground  the  scoundrel  had  disappeared,  and 
though  I  stalked  about  through  the  grounds  like 
an  avenging  spirit,  searching  every  shadow, 
'twas  in  vain. 

In  the  rooms  above  me  lights  were  flashing,  and 
I  heard  a  babel  of  voices,  and  now  I  bethought  me 
'twas  time  I  sought  my  chamber  and  donned 
fitter  clothing  for  a  ramble  through  house  and 
gardens.  But  how  was  I  to  do  this?  I  liked  not 
the  climb  up  those  vines,  and  'twere  useless  to  do 


74  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

so,  any  way,  for  I  had  carefully  fastened  my 
window  before  going  to  bed,  and  as  for  entrance 
through  the  lady's  chamber  —  well,  hardly. 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  so  I  marched  up  to  the 
great  door  and  sounded  a  summons.  Then  I 
waited,  half -audibly  consigning  to  the  warm 
caresses  of  the  devil  the  rascal  who  had  caused  me 
to  be  in  such  a  plight.  Presently  I  saw  a  servant 
coming  down  the  hall  cautiously,  shading  a 
candle  with  his  hand  and  peering  ahead  of  its 
light  as  though  anxious  to  get  an  early  glimpse 
of  an  unknown  terror.  It  was  evident  that  the 
black  was  already  frightened  by  the  uproar  above 
stairs,  and  so  I  was  prepared  for  the  shriek  of 
terror  when  he  swung  open  the  door  and  saw 
before  him  a  spectre  in  white  with  tousled  hair, 
bare  feet,  and  naked  sword. 

The  candle  fell  to  the  floor,  and  with  another 
howl  the  darky  turned  and  plunged  back  into 
the  dark  recesses.  I  heard  the  slamming  of  a 
door  and  the  slipping  of  bolts  somewhere  in  the 
distance  and  knew  that  he  had  barricaded  him- 
self, and  probably  was  now  on  his  knees  pleading 
for  forgiveness  for  some  pet  sin.  Snatching  up 
the  candle,  I  did  the  only  thing  possible,  — 
marched  down  the  hallway  and  up  the  stairs  alone. 
The  servant's  howl  of  terror  had  attracted  atten- 


RED   ROSES  75 

tion  from  above,  and  when  I  was  half-way  up  the 
stairs  I  heard  a  rush  of  feet,  and,  looking  up,  saw 
a  fringe  of  white  faces  peering  down  at  me  from 
above  the  landing  rail.  I  had  paused  to  look, 
but  now  as  I  resumed  my  spectral  march  upward 
the  faces  disappeared  and  I  heard  an  excited 
discussion.  As  I  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs 
and  turned  to  go  down  the  hall  I  was  startled  by 
a  cry  of,  "  Halt!  " 

The  candle  blinded  me  for  a  moment,  but  now 
I  saw  a  man  confronting  me  with  levelled  pistol, 
and  beyond  him,  in  the  dim  light  of  two  candles 
farther  down  the  hall,  was  a  group  of  men  and  a 
few  women,  the  look  of  fright  on  their  faces  evi- 
dent even  in  that  uncertain  light.  In  truth, 
I  must  have  been  an  uncanny  sight  standing  there 
like  an  incarnated  spirit  from  another  world. 

''  Who  are  you?  "  came  the  demand. 

"  Ian  Lester,  Captain  of  Continentals,"  I 
responded  with  habitual  formality. 

There  was  a  half -smothered  shriek  from  the 
women,  and  I  saw  them  turn  and  dart  into  their 
rooms.  Then  the  ludicrousness  of  it  all  dawned 
on  me,  and  I  leaned  against  the  wall  and  roared 
in  a  paroxysm  of  laughter. 

'  'Fore  God,  you  look  more  like  a  captain  of 
devils,"  was  the  comment  of  the  man  with  the 


76  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

pistol,  who  now  lowered  the  weapon  and  indulged 
in  a  chuckle  himself. 

"  Well,  if  the  ladies  have  hidden  their  eyes 
from  this  embarrassing  spectacle,  I'll  proceed,"  I 
said,  and,  candle  and  sword  in  hand,  I  marched 
on  through  the  snickering  men  to  my  room,  where 
I  threw  myself  on  the  bed  and  again  rolled 
in  a  seizure  of  laughter  that  I  was  unable  to  con- 
trol. 

It  was  near  to  dawn  by  this  time,  and  I  decided 
that  I  might  as  well  dress  and  investigate  the 
cause  and  result  of  the  rumpus,  so,  wiping  the 
laughter  tears  from  my  eyes,  I  rolled  off  the  bed 
and  turned  to  the  chair  where  I  had  left  my 
clothes.  Then  the  mirth  in  my  bosom  died  a 
sudden  death.  The  chair  was  there  —  but  the 
clothes  were  not.  Seizing  the  candle,  I  hastily 
looked  the  room  over,  but  not  a  stitch  was  to  be 
found. 

Consumed  with  rage,  I  sprang  to  the  door  and 
would  have  rushed  into  the  hall  again  had  not  the 
sound  of  feminine  voices  out  there  caused  me  to 
pause  in  dismay.  I  began  beating  on  the  door 
with  my  clenched  fists. 

"Ho,  Langford!  Langford!  Langford,  I  say!  " 
I  bellowed  with  all  the  volume  anger  could  give 
my  voice. 


RED    ROSES  77 

Instantly  the  women  hushed,  and  I  pounded 
the  louder. 

"  Send  Peter  Langford  here  instantly!  "  I 
shouted. 

There  was  a  commotion  in  the  hallway,  and  a 
moment  later  the  old  Tory  opened  the  door  and 
stuck  his  head  into  my  room. 

"  What  devil's  racket  is  this?  "  he  demanded, 
with  a  show  of  anger. 

I  seized  him  by  the  shoulders  and  pulled  him 
inside. 

"My  clothes!"  I  demanded.  "They  have 
been  stolen!  " 

"  Well,  I  am  not  responsible.  I  believe  you 
chased  the  thief,  yourself." 

"  But  not  this  thief.  That  rascal  came  through 
a  window  from  without.  This  scoundrel  came 
through  the  door  from  within.  See,  the  window 
of  this  room  is  securely  fastened!  " 

He  made  a  show  of  examining  the  window  catch, 
and  the  while  my  brain  was  busy.  Many  things 
were  beginning  to  become  clear  to  my  mind,  and 
they  all  hinged  on  the  distressing  fact  that  the 
despatch  I  carried  from  Washington  for  Congress 
was  stolen.  It  was  sewed  in  the  waistband  of 
my  short-clothes.  Why  had  this  scheming  old 
Tory  inveigled  me  into  becoming  his  guest?  Did 


78  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

he  suspect  that  I  carried  important  papers  besides 
the  one  I  had  purposely  dropped?  Why  had  the 
night  prowler  entered  the  room  adjoining  mine? 
In  a  flash  I  remembered  hearing  him  tell  the 
woman  that  it  was  a  mistake,  and  I  remembered 
that  some  one  on  the  ground  below  had  cursed 
him  for  a  blunderer  when  we  were  fighting  on  the 
veranda. 

"  The  next  room,  you  blundering  ass !  " 

Those  were  the  words.  The  next  room  was 
mine.  Had  the  fellow  been  sent  burglaring  as  a 
part  of  a  plot  to  seize  my  despatches?  And  had 
not  the  theft  of  my  clothes  taken  place  for  this 
purpose  by  some  one  within  the  house  while  I 
was  crossing  steel  on  the  outside  with  the  knave 
who  had  blundered?  'Twas  all  so  plain  that  in 
my  rage  I  was  of  a  mind  to  redden  my  sword  with 
old  Langford's  blood. 

"  You  thieving  cur!  " 

My  fingers  went  to  his  throat,  throttling  the 
cry  that  rose  to  his  lips,  and  in  a  moment  I  had 
him  on  his  knees,  the  lust  of  death  in  my  heart, 
but  the  face  of  Mistress  Gayle  seemed  to  come 
between  us,  and  my  fingers  relaxed.  Then  a 
realization  of  my  loss  swept  over  me,  and  I  sank 
into  a  chair  and  with  my  face  in  my  hands 
sobbed  like  a  boy.  The  reputation  of  soldierly 


RED   ROSES  79 

efficiency  I  had  builded  up  by  months  of  hardship 
amid  scenes  of  blood  was  swept  away,  leaving  me 
disgraced,  mined.  Washington  had  trusted  me, 
and  a  woman's  cry  had  caused  me  to  forget.  I 
had  gone  scrambling  down  vines  and  wandering 
barefooted  through  the  grounds  like  a  clown 
while  my  enemies  quietly  possessed  themselves 
of  my  precious  papers. 

When  I  looked  up,  Langford  was  standing 
before  me,  and  the  leer  on  his  face  quickly  stilled 
my  sobs. 

"  Are  all  rebels  children?  "  he  asked,  and  it 
stung  me. 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  but  it  is  well  my  uniform 
was  stolen.  I  am  unworthy  it." 

"  One  would  suppose  the  fool's  garb  were  of 
spun  gold  to  hear  your  lamentations.  Was  it, 
indeed,  so  valuable?  " 

It  seemed  to  be  a  family  trait  of  the  Langfords 
that  their  thoughts  should  be  writ  in  their  eyes, 
and  now  his  were  snapping  with  an  eagerness 
that  would  have  warned  me  had  not  my  brains 
already  resumed  their  duty  of  guarding  my 
tongue. 

:'  Valuable?  Poof!  I  was  but  vexed,  and 
acted  childishly.  Provided  I  secure  decent  garb 
the  thief  is  welcome  to  those  poor  rags." 


8o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  But  your  valuables?  " 

Again  the  snapping  eyes  told  their  story,  and 
I  spread  a  smile  so  natural  that  I  flatter  myself 
he  was  puzzled. 

"  Were  but  trifles.  One  or  two  gold  pieces  and 
some  continentals.  Disappointment  will  be  the 
thief's  portion." 

"  It  must  have  been  one  of  the  servants.  I 
cannot  believe  it  of  my  guests,  but  the  blacks  are 
always  thieving." 

"  And  in  the  meantime  I  am  naked,  save  foi 
this  robe  which  was  slitted  by  that  knave's  blade.'"' 

"  I  will  see  that  you  are  provided." 

He  backed  out  of  the  room,  evidently  fearing 
that  my  fingers  might  again  squeeze  his  gullet, 
and  I  sat  there  in  the  early  dawn  disconsolate  and 
half -regretting  that  I  had  sprung  aside  when  the 
thrust  had  come  from  the  shadow.  The  confusion 
in  the  halls  died  away  for  a  time,  but  by  the  time 
the  sun  had  peeped  in  at  my  window  I  heard  the 
servants  in  the  yard  below  me  singing  bits  of 
quaint  songs  in  subdued  tones.  There  was  naught 
for  me  to  do  but  wait  as  patiently  as  possible,  but 
I  am  afraid  I  said  some  monstrously  wicked  things 
during  that  wait.  But  at  last  there  was  a  knock, 
and  a  servant  entered  and  laid  out  on  my  bed  a 
complete  furnishing  of  clothing. 


RED    ROSES  81 

"  Marse  Langford  say  he  think  dey  fit  you  an' 
he  hope  dey  please." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Langford  that  I  feel  under  obligations 
to  him.  for  many  things  —  and  don't  forget  to 
tell  him  I  said  many  things." 

Quickly  I  donned  the  garments,  and  then  I 
surveyed  myself  in  the  mirror,  vain  prig  that  I 
was,  but  it  had  been  many  days  since  I  had  been 
arrayed  in  the  tucks  and  finery  of  a  citizen  gentle- 
man, and,  in  truth,  the  feel  of  the  satins  was 
pleasing.  White  silk  hose,  rose-colored  short- 
clothes,  with  waistcoat  and  coat  of  scarlet  slashed 
with  creamy  trimmings,  rich  lace  at  the  cuffs  and 
throat,  and  the  powdered  wig  that  accompanied 
the  finery  made  of  me  quite  a  Brurnmel,  it  seemed 
to  me. 

When  the  summons  came  for  breakfast  I  found 
Langford  alone  to  break  bread  with  me.  Why  the 
other  men  were  absent  I  never  knew,  but,  doubt- 
less, it  was  all  a  part  of  the  game  being  played  by 
this  King's  man,  and  I  was  compelled  to  admit 
that  he  had  succeeded  so  well  thus  far  that  he 
should  be  given  credit  for  knowing  what  was  best 
for  his  own  plans.  I  felt  much  like  a  whipped  boy, 
and  ate  my  breakfast  almost  in  silence. 

"  You  will  return  at  three  for  my  letter?  "  he 
asked,  when,  the  meal  over,  I  announced  my 


82  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

intention  of  going  out  into  the  city.  "  I  am  sure 
that  by  that  time  I  will  be  able  to  decide  as  to  my 
answer  to  Mister  Washington.  And  I  will  have 
my  servants'  quarters  searched  for  your  cloth- 
ing." 

As  usual,  his  eyes  were  as  printed  pages,  and  I 
read  in  them  sly  vaunting,  for  the  rascal  felt 
assured  of  finding  something  hidden  about  my 
clothing.  My  lips  pressed  themselves  into  a 
straight  line,  and  the  hot  reply  born  in  my  heart 
did  not  live  to  pass  them. 

The  sun  was  already  beating  down  with  great 
fury  when  I  ran  down  the  front  steps,  and  the 
day  gave  evidence  of  being  one  of  sultriness. 
As  I  reached  the  long  promenade  leading  to  the 
gate  I  paused,  for  there  before  me  was  Gayle 
Langford  bending  over  a  rose-bush  close  beside 
the  walk.  As  she  heard  my  step  she  looked  up, 
her  left  arm  supporting  a  great  cluster  of  the 
magnificent  roses,  her  right  hand  still  clinging  to 
a  flower  she  was  about  to  pluck.  Dressed  in 
some  stuff  that  was  light  and  airy  and  with  dainty 
figures,  radiant  and  fresh  and  cool-looking  was 
she,  and  in  a  moment  my  cocked  hat  was  sweep- 
ing near  to  the  ground  as  I  made  my  bow. 

"  Flora  among  her  treasures,"   I  said. 

The  look  of  bewilderment  that  had  at  first  come 


RED   ROSES  83 

to  her  face  vanished  in  a  smile  that  quite  be- 
wildered me. 

"  La,  it  is,  indeed,  Captain  Lester.  The  tailor's 
conceits  quite  disguise  you,  but  your  audacious 
speech  is  betrayal." 

"  God  grant  that  I  never  be  betrayed  to  an 
enemy  less  fair." 

A  soft  flush  stole  to  her  cheeks  and  heightened 
the  color  already  there.  There  was  but  a  moment's 
hesitation,  and  then  she  came  towards  me,  hand 
outstretched,  the  roses  winnowing  from  her  arm 
and  providing  a  pathway  of  petals. 

"  How  ungracious  of  me,"  she  said,  her  voice 
low  and  soft  as  a  flute,  "  to  stand  idly  playing 
with  words  when  I  should  be  giving  you  my  hand 
in  gratitude  for  your  gallant  rescue." 

She  laid  her  dainty  hand,  all  pink  and  white, 
like  one  of  her  rose  petals,  in  my  rough  palm, 
and  bending  over  it,  I  pressed  my  lips  to  the 
ringer  tips,  the  while  a  great  trembling  seized  me. 

"  'Twas  you  ?  "  I  queried,  and  my  voice  must 
have  betrayed  the  great  surprise  I  felt. 

"  And  you  knew  it  not?  " 

"  Until  this  moment,  no." 

I  looked  into  her  eyes  and  saw  there  a  returning 
flash  of  her  hauteur,  with  a  growing  mixture  of 
disappointment. 


84  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Else  your  blade  would  have  been  less  ready, 
perhaps." 

"  Else  had  I  certainly  slain  the  knave,"  I  re- 
sponded, and  wondered  why  I  had  so  thrown  my 
soul  into  the  words. 

"  Though  your  sword  is  for  any  wench  who 
pipes  a  cry.  Doubtless  you  thought  'twas  some 
lass  you  had  ogled  in  the  ball-room." 

"  My  sword  is  for  the  defence  of  those  who  need 
it  —  my  country  first ;  beauty,  though  Loyalist, 
next." 

She  had  spoken  herself  into  a  position  she  little 
relished,  and  now  was  plainly  hard  put  for  reply. 
Hence  she  irrelevantly  held  up  the  flowers. 

"  Are  they  not  beautiful?  "   she  asked. 

"  Indeed,  they  are  but  little  less  so  than  those 
blooming  in  your  cheeks." 

"  Fie,  Captain,  I  expected  something  more 
original  from  you." 

"  Truth  has  but  slight  originality.  It  is  like  a 
rose.  If  the  rose  is  beautiful,  all  men  use  the  same 
word  in  complimenting  it." 

"  Will  nothing  stay  your  saucy  tongue?  "  she 
asked,  laughing. 

"  If  I  stand  in  your  presence,  naught  but  death." 

"  Then  begone,  sir,  this  instant,  for  I  have 
harked  to  enough  impertinences! "  Her  eyes 


RED    ROSES  -      85 

suddenly  flashed  anger,  as  a  cloud  sweeps  across 
the  sky,  blotting  out  the  sunshine. 

"  And  I  have  stifled  the  voice  of  duty  too  long 
to  stand  thus  in  the  perfume  of  Tory  crinoline." 

"Rebel  insults!" 

"  Doubtless  you  prefer  Hessian  blandish- 
ments!" I  retorted,  for  she  had  vexed  me 
beyond  endurance. 

"  Sir!  "  There  was  a  world  of  scorn  in  the 
word. 

"  A  rebel  tongue  is  a  thing  despised,  but  a 
rebel  sword  is  a  gift  of  God  —  in  time  of  peril!  " 

I  swung  my  hat  in  another  bow  and  stalked 
down  the  promenade,  my  head  high  in  the  air. 

"Captain!" 

I  marched  on. 

"  Captain  Lester!  " 

There  was  an  appeal  in  the  tone,  and  I  wheeled. 
She  came  to  me,  holding  out  two  roses. 

"I  —  I  was  ungrateful  to  forget,"  she  said. 
"  Will  you  not  accept  these,  the  most  beautiful 
of  the  garden?  " 

"  And  I  was  a  knave  to  remind  you,  Mistress 
Langford,"  I  replied,  taking  the  flowers  as 
tenderly  as  though  they  would  crumble  at  a  rude 
touch.  "  I  thank  you  and  beg  humbly  for  your 
forgiveness." 


86  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

She  smiled  and  turned  away. 

"Mistress  Gayle!  " 

'Twas  my  call  this  time,  and  as  she  turned  I 
pressed  one  of  the  roses  to  my  lips. 

"To  our  better  friendship!"  I  cried,  and 
tossed  it  to  her. 

It  fell  to  the  ground.  She  hesitated;  then, 
stooping,  she  picked  it  up  and,  thrusting  it  into 
her  bodice,  ran  laughing  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   CLANG   OF   A    BELL 

THE  quaint  old  city  was  quiet  on  that  mid- 
summer morning,  but  it  was  not  the 
quietude  of  contentment ;  rather  was  it  the 
quiet  that  comes  just  before  the  hurricane  sweeps 
down,  bringing  death  and  woe,  destroying  the  old 
and  levelling  for  the  erection  of  the  new  and  better ; 
the  quiet  of  the  tiger  that,  fleeing  from  the  hunts- 
man until  driven  to  desperation,  now  crouches, 
with  ominous  purring,  for  a  spring,  ready  to  be- 
come a  hunter  of  the  hunter.  The  tradesmen  in 
their  plain,  drab  cloth,  stood  in  the  doorways 
talking  earnestly  with  those  who  paused  to  chat. 
And  'twas  not  God's  covenants  that  burdened 
their  tongues,  but  a  king's  tyranny  and  men's 
rights  —  or  a  king's  graciousness  and  rebels' 
treason  —  according  to  what  group  was  talking  - 
for  it  must  be  remembered  that  there  were  many 
who  sided  with  George  Third  and  viewed  the 

87 


88  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Patriots  as  so  many  vipers  that  were  stinging 
the  hand  that  had  blessed  them. 

Would  Congress  adopt  the  resolution  declaring 
the  Colonies  free  and  independent? 

That  was  the  burden  of  the  tongues  this  humid 
morning,  and  many  even  of  those  who  were  ready 
to  strike  a  blow  at  England  for  the  sake  of  securing 
redress  for  certain  wrongs  were  of  the  opinion 
that  a  declaration  of  independence  was  a  step  too 
far,  a  bit  of  mad  folly  that  could  but  result  in 
disaster.  Gentlemen  in  gold-laced  hats  and  carry- 
ing gold-headed  canes  met  and  pounded  the 
walks  with  their  sticks  as  they  argued,  inter- 
spersing their  discussion  with  frequent  resorts  to 
their  gold  snuff-boxes.  About  the  market-places 
the  drivers  of  Conestoga  wagons  called  to  one 
another,  and  always  the  discussion  was,  "  Will 
the  delegates  sign?  " 

I  was  a  stranger  and  was  able  to  overhear  but 
little  of  the  talk,  for  in  those  days  men  were 
careful  who  heard  their  declarations  on  political 
subjects.  But  I  cared  naught  for  the  idle  talk, 
anyway.  The  rose  on  my  lapel  was  giving  out  a 
sweet  fragrance.  I  was  no  longer  in  buff  and 
blue,  and  I  seemed  floating  away  from  war  and 
its  horrors. 

The   little   Tory   was   a   beauteous   vixen!     I 


THE    CLANG    OF    A    BELL      89 

turned  my  eyes  to  the  great  white  cover  of  a 
Conestoga  wagon,  and  there  on  its  corded  sides  I 
saw  her  face,  saucy,  wilful,  cold,  warm  and 
radiant,  pleading,  freckled,  fair  and  perfect! 
Did  ever  a  man  see  so  impossible  a  picture  before  ? 
But  perhaps  no  one  had  ever  before  seen  Mistress 
Langford's  face  with  eyes  like  mine.  Heigho! 
I  know  not,  but  I  know  that  by  the  time  I  had 
reached  the  inn  where  I  had  stopped  the  night 
before  I  was  near  ready  to  curse  the  entire  name 
of  Langford.  In  my  room,  I  tore  the  flower  from 
my  coat  and  flung  it  into  a  corner. 

"  So  be  it  with  all  Tories !  "  I  muttered  savagely. 

Then  I  straightway  walked  over  to  that  corner, 
picked  up  the  rose,  and  pinned  it  on  my  lapel 
again.  Inconsistent  dolt,  say  you?  Well,  I  am 
but  telling  you  a  truthful  tale,  and  'twould  not 
be  truth  did  I  paint  myself  as  a  high-headed 
youngster  whose  hours  were  a  grand  symmetry 
of  consistency. 

Boyd  had  promised  to  meet  me  here  at  ten, 
and  though  'twas  past  the  hour  he  had  not  come. 
I  paced  the  floor  in  impatience  until  a  tap  sounded 
on  the  panels. 

"Come  in!" 

The  door  opened  and  Boyd  paused  on  the 
threshold,  staring  at  me. 


go  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir.  I  thought  —  why,  it  — 
well,  spit  me,  if  it  isn't  Captain  Lester,  after  all!  " 

"  Nay,  'tis  Mister  Lester  this  morning,"  I  said, 
looking  down  at  my  fine  clothes  rather  ruefully. 

He  came  in  and  closed  the  door,  and  then 
regarded  me  curiously. 

"Satins  and  lace  —  and  a  rose,"  he  said,  a 
question  in  his  eyes  rather  than  in  his  inflection. 

"  Yes,  I  bought  the  flower  in  a  shop." 

Somehow,  the  lie  slipped  out  of  my  mouth,  for 
I  felt  that  he  would  not  understand  the  rose 
incident.  Besides,  I  was  rather  nettled  at  his 
tone. 

"  And  the  clothes?  "  he  asked,  point-blank. 

For  answer  I  told  him  the  story  of  the  night 
and  how  my  despatches  had  been  stolen.  He 
dropped  into  a  chair  near  the  open  window  and 
was  silent  for  a  time. 

"  Philadelphia  is  a  furnace  to-day,"  he  said,  at 
last,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead. 

"  Aye,    and   from   the   crucible   will   come  - 
what?  " 

He  shook  his  head  slowly.  "  May  God's  pity 
rest  on  the  poor  chaps  who  swelter  in  the  State- 
house  to-day." 

"  And  what  of  the  chaps  who  shall  carry  for- 
ward what  they  begin?  " 


THE    CLANG    OF    A   BELL       91 

He  turned  his  eyes  to  me  again,  and  a  doubt- 
was  there. 

"  I  had  reference  to  the  heat,  Lester.  But  is 
this  Captain  of  Continentals  faltering  in  the 
cause?  " 

"  Falter?  "  I  drew  myself  up  to  my  fullest 
height,  and  probably  I  looked  severe,  for  he  had 
touched  me  on  a  tender  spot.  "  Boyd,  some  day 
I'll  tell  you  the  story  of  a  scar,  and  —  " 

I  paused  and  sprang  to  the  window,  for  at  that 
moment  a  handsome  coach  with  gilt  panels  came 
bowling  along,  and  at  its  window  I  saw  the  face 
of  Gayle  Langford.  She  saw  me,  bowed,  and 
smiled  into  my  eyes  as  I  leaned  far  out  on  the 
window-sill,  and  as  she  bowed  I  caught  sight  of  a 
great  red  rose  in  her  bodice.  Then  the  coach 
swept  on,  but  I  still  hung  out  of  the  window, 
watching  it  until  it  turned  a  corner  and  left  me 
naught  but  a  dust  cloud.  Then  I  drew  my  head 
in,  and  found  Boyd  watching  me,  a  cold  smile  on 
his  lips.  I  reddened  under  his  gaze. 

"  And  of  a  rose?  "  he  asked,  a  sarcasm  in  his 
voice. 

"  You  saw?  "  I  stumbled  over  the  words  in 
my  confusion. 

He  nodded. 

"  I     saw    King  George's    most    loyal   wench 


92  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

smile,  up  at  you.  And  I  caught  the  flash  of  a 
rose." 

"  Well,  what  of  it? "  I  demanded,  anger 
beginning  to  kindle  at  his  manner. 

"  What  of  it,  Lester?    Nothing  —  I  hope." 

"  Damn  it,  man,  have  done  with  your  flings. 
What  would  you  say?  " 

"  Easy,  my  Captain.  Let  not  the  heat  of  the 
day  creep  into  your  brain." 

I  said  nothing,  but  turned  to  the  window  and 
sat  down. 

"  The  rose  she  wore,  Lester,  is  a  rare  one.  I 
know  something  of  floriculture  and  often  have 
inspected  Langford's  garden.  There  is  but  one 
bush  of  that  variety  in  all  of  the  Colonies.  It  is 
in  Langford's  garden  —  and  the  rose  you  wear 
grew  upon  it  I  " 

I  had  been  reared  a  truth-loving  lad,  and  now 
the  knowledge  that  I  had  been  trapped  in  my  lie 
brought  confusion  to  me.  I  raised  my  eyes, 
but  dropped  them  before  his  steady  gaze. 
My  face  was  hot,  not  with  anger  now,  but  with 
shame. 

"  Lester,"  he  cried.  "  Tell  me  the  truth  about 
this  flower!  " 

"  She  gave  it  to  me,"  I  replied,  humbly. 

"  Ah!  "    He  caught  his  breath  sharply.    "  And 


THE    CLANG    OF    A    BELL      93 

your  uniform,  Lester,  and  —  yes  —  by  God,  your 
despatches?  " 

I  looked  at  him  then.  "  What  mean  you?  "  I 
asked. 

With  a  quick  stride  he  was  at  my  side,  looking 
down  at  me,  his  hands  clenched,  and  when  he 
spoke  his  voice  was  hoarse. 

"  Mean?  I  mean  that  beauty  in  petticoats  has 
before  now  ensnared  men  and  wooed  from  them 
that  which  should  have  been  dearer  than  life. 
You  lied  to  me  about  the  rose,  Lester,  but  if  you 
have  lied  about  those  despatches,  'fore  Christ, 
you  must  answer  to  me!  " 

Then  I  understood.  'Twas  in  his  mind  that  I 
had  sold  my  honor  for  this  Tory  beauty's  favor. 
The  accusation  shot  me  through  with  rage,  but 
even  as  I  came  to  my  feet  another  thought  had 
stayed  my  fingers  that  would  have  sought  his 
throat. 

"  Boyd,"  I  said,  "  those  words  would  mean 
your  death  were  it  not  for  this,  that  they  prove 
to  me  as  nothing  else  could  the  patriotism  that 
is  in  your  heart.  I'll  tell  you  the  story  of  this 
rose,  and  as  for  Mistress  Langford,  I  would  not 
buckle  her  slipper  for  her  brightest  smile.  'Twas 
but  a  passing  whim  that  rammed  my  head  like 
a  gander's  out  of  the  window  a  moment  ago." 


94  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Whereupon  I  gave  him  the  details  of  my  tilt  in 
the  garden  with  the  girl,  and  then  of  my  boyhood, 
and  the  last  cruise  of  the  Eagle.  When  I  had 
finished  he  was  clinging  to  my  hand. 

"  But,  ah,  Lester,  how  often  have  I  seen  red 
lips  change  the  politics  of  a  stalwart  man!  "  he 
said,  concluding  his  apologies. 

"  But  the  Declaration,  Boyd?  You  know  more 
of  it  than  I.  Tell  me,  will  they  sign?  " 

His  face  clouded.  "  Last  night  I  would  have 
said  yes  without  a  pause.  But  during  the  night 
evil  influences  have  been  at  work.  Some  of  the 
delegates  hesitate,  waiting  to  hear  some  word 
from  the  court  of  France.  Oh,  did  King  Louis 
but  send  a  whisper  of  hope!  " 

"  And  to-day  brings  the  hour  of  destiny  to  a 
nation,"  I  said,  impressed  with  the  solemnity  of 
it  all. 

At  that  moment  there  came  a  burst  of  up- 
roarious laughter  from  the  tap-room  below. 

"  Aye,  the  hour  of  destiny,  but  the  rabble  still 
carouse." 

And  then  we  fell  to  discussing  the  business  that 
had  brought  us  together,  a  consideration  as  to 
how  Boyd  could  best  serve  the  American  cause, 
and  the  decision  was  that  he  would  return  with 
me  to  New  York  and  take  service  with  Washing- 


THE    CLANG    OF   A   BELL      95 

ton.  But  little  did  I  dream  of  what  was  to  come 
to  pass  ere  I  stood  in  the  Chief's  presence. 

We  descended  the  stairs  and  entered  the  tap- 
room. It  was  hazy  with  tobacco  smoke,  and 
grouped  about  a  table  in  one  corner  were  several 
scurvy-looking  fellows,  drunk  and  beating  the 
table  with  pewter  mugs  in  accompaniment  to  a 
song.  The  singer's  back  was  to  us,  but  I  recog- 
nized him  as  the  Prince.  Our  entrance  attracted 
no  attention,  and,  seating  ourselves  in  another 
part  of  the  room,  we  ordered  each  a  mug  of  ale. 

"  The  Prince  seeks  genteel  company,"  remarked 
Boyd. 

"  He  has  an  object,  I'll  be  bound,"  I  replied, 
listening  to  the  chatter  of  the  gang. 

"Ho,  landlord!  More  ale!  More  ale!"  they 
cried. 

"No!"  cried  the  Prince.  "No  more  babe's 
milk  will  we  have.  A  sling  of  kill-devil  give  us." 

"  Long  live  the  Prince!  "  shouted  one,  and  the 
mugs  were  banged  furiously  on  the  table  to  the 
shouts  of  "  The  Prince!  "  "  The  Prince!  " 

We  sat  with  our  backs  to  them,  listening  in 
silence,  while  the  publican  bustled  about  and  soon 
had  the  rum  concoction  before  them,  with  many 
bows  and  smirks. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  toast,"  said  one,  evidently  of 


96  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

better  education  than  the  rest,  though  many  of 
the  choicest  knaves  of  the  day  were  well  reared 
and  learned.  "  Here's  to  the  Prince  and  his 
loving  wench,  Mistress  Langford !  May  the  nectar 
of  her  lips  be  his  in  the  future  as  in  the  past!  " 

"  Sit  still!  " 

Boyd  hurled  the  command  at  me  in  a  whisper 
and  jerked  me  back  into  my  chair  as  I  started  up. 
The  toast  was  drunk  with  a  yell  of  laughter,  in 
which  the  Prince  joined. 

"  Ach,  you  jolly  dogs!"  he  exclaimed  play- 
fully. "  You  have  many  eyes  that  are  sharp,  I 
see.  I  pledge  you  in  return,  this:  May  your 
lips  be  always  moist  with  kisses  as  sweet  as  those 
of  my  adoring  Mistress  Lang — 

I  wrenched  free  from  Boyd  and  was  on  my  feet. 

"  Stop,  you  cur!  "  I  shouted,  and  the  name 
died  on  his  lips. 

"  O  Lord!  "  groaned  Boyd. 

"Ach!  And  who  is  this?"  cried  the  Prince, 
turning  to  me,  fury  in  his  voice. 

With  a  few  quick  strides  I  was  before  him. 

"  A  gentleman,  you  whelp  of  a  wolf,  who  would 
wash  your  tongue  of  its  dirty  lies!  " 

I  raised  my  ale-mug  and  dashed  the  liquor  into 
his  face  and  mouth  as  he  stood  gaping  at  me.  His 
henchmen  had  recovered  from  their  astonishment 


THE    CLANG    OF    A    BELL      97 

by  this  time,  and  my  rash  act  was  like  to  have 
cost  me  dear  at  that  moment,  for  they  surged 
towards  me  with  a  howl  of  sullen  rage,  and  though 
there  was  not  a  sword  among  them  they  might 
have  overpowered  me  and  beaten  me  to  death 
had  not  Boyd  used  his  wits.  Quick  as  a  flash  he 
seized  a  stool  and  hurled  it  into  their  midst, 
bowling  a  couple  of  the  leaders  over,  and  stopping 
the  rush.  Then  he  grabbed  a  table  and  whirled 
it  in  front  of  us  as  a  barricade. 

"  Fair  play  for  all!  "  he  cried,  and  even  in  that 
moment  I  admired  his  coolness  and  quickness  of 
thought. 

The  Prince,  spluttering  with  fury,  was  wiping 
the  liquor  from  his  face  with  one  hand,  while  his 
dress  sword  was  already  gleaming  in  his  right. 

' '  Gott !  The  rebel  Captain  it  is !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Your  heart  I  will  dangle  on  my  rapier!  " 

He  made  a  lunge  towards  me  across  the  table, 
but  I  saved  myself  by  springing  back. 

"  Hold!  Your  Highness,  he  is  unarmed! " 
Boyd  had  seized  another  stool  and  was  standing 
with  it  upraised. 

"  Then  I  shall  gash  him  as  I  please,"  snarled 
the  German. 

"  Surely!  Murder  would  suit  you  best,"  I 
retorted. 


98  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  But  wait  and  let  him  fight  you  on  equal 
terms,"  Boyd  pleaded.  "  Do  not  murder  him." 

"  To  kill  a  dog  is  not  murder!  " 

There  was  a  shout  of  approval  from  his  followers, 
and  the  Prince  lunged  at  me  again  across  the  table. 
Boyd  swung  at  him  with  the  stool,  but  the  Ger- 
man eluded  the  blow,  and  before  Boyd  could 
recover  himself  half  a  dozen  hands  had  clutched 
the  stool  and  torn  it  from  his  grasp.  The  next 
instant  it  came  hurtling  through  the  air  from  the 
other  side  of  our  barricade.  A  noise  in  the 
passageway  behind  me  had  caused  me  to  half- 
turn,  and  now  I  saw  the  flying  stool  too  late  to 
dodge  it.  There  was  a  fearful  whack,  I  felt  as 
though  my  head  had  burst,  a  million  lights 
streaked  with  red  were  before  my  eyes,  I  heard 
some  one  shouting  as  though  in  command,  and 
then  the  noises  trailed  off  into  silence  and  darkness. 

Boyd  was  bending  over  me  when  I  opened  my 
eyes  some  time  later  in  my  own  room  of  the  inn, 
and  behind  him  I  saw  the  uniforms  of  Continental 
soldiers.  I  put  my  hand  to  my  head,  which  was 
aching  terribly,  and  found  it  swathed  in  bandages. 

"Thunder  and  dragons!  Will  nothing  keep 
you  quiet?  "  exclaimed  Boyd,  petulantly,  forcing 
me  back  on  to  the  pillow  as  I  tried  to  rise. 

"  Surely,"  I  replied.    "  Try  a  recital." 


THE    CLANG    OF   A   BELL      99 

"  Well,  keep  your  broken  pate  on  the  feathers 
and  I'll  tell  you  the  very  little  you  don't  know. 
Your  head  stopped  that  flying  stool,  and  then 
they  swarmed  over  the  table  at  us.  By  now  we 
would  have  been  beaten  as  black  as  jerked 
venison  —  and  as  dead  —  had  not  a  squad  popped 
into  the  room  just  then  and  sent  the  rascals 
scurrying." 

A  sergeant  stepped  forward  from  the  soldiers 
and  saluted. 

"  A  squad  of  Wilmoth's  horse,  sir.  Half  a 
regiment  is  scattered  about  the  town  while  the 
Congress  debates  the  Declaration." 

"  I  see,"   I  said,  though,  in  truth,  I  did  not  see. 

"  My  squad  was  at  the  stables  of  the  Golden 
Lion  when  the  landlord  rushed  out  and  said  a 
Captain  of  Continentals  was  likely  to  be  mobbed. 
That's  all,  sir." 

"  Thank  heaven  that  it's  enough,"  I  replied, 
smiling  in  spite  of  my  throbbing  head. 

"  Can  we  be  of  further  assistance,  sir!  "  queried 
the  sergeant. 

"  No,  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have  done." 

I  sat  up  on  the  side  of  the  bed  in  spite  of  Boyd's 
protests. 

"  No  time  for  coddling  or  pillows  now,"  I 
answered. 


ioo  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  But  your  head,  Lester;  your  head?  " 

"  Feels  big  enough  to  take  care  of  itself,"  I 
replied,  putting  my  hands  to  my  temples. 

"  But  the  consequences  - 

"  Will  be  devilish  interesting  to  that  titled 
knave  when  I  meet  him  with  my  blade  in  hand." 

I  sprang  up,  but  sat  down  instanter,  with  a 
groan  that  was  wrung  from  me  by  the  sudden 
pains  that  laced  my  head. 

In  a  trice  Boyd  was  at  my  side  with  a  cup  of 
water  with  which  he  wet  my  bandages  and  cooled 
my  tortured  head.  He  had  no  trouble  in  getting 
me  stretched  out,  for  I  was  sick  and  faint  from 
the  torture.  For  the  next  few  hours  I  was  off 
my  back  but  little,  though  I  sat  up  occasionally 
in  an  effort  to  force  Nature  to  grant  me  the  relief 
I  demanded,  and  never  was  new-found  friend 
more  solicitous  than  was  Boyd  during  those  hours. 
It  was  two  by  the  clock  when  I  finally  struggled 
to  my  feet  and  swore  I  was  going  forth.  Boyd 
argued  and  begged  in  vain,  for  my  appointment 
with  Langford  was  for  three,  and  I  was  deter- 
mined to  be  punctual.  And  so,  after  fresh 
bandages  had  been  wrapped  about  my  head  and 
I  had  taken  a  few  swallows  of  wine,  we  set  forth. 
I  noticed  that  the  streets  were  almost  deserted, 
and  remarked  it. 


THE    CLANG    OF    A    BELL     101 

"  They  crowd  about  the  State-house,"  replied 
Boyd. 

At  first  my  legs  felt  weak  and  wabbly,  and  my 
steps  were  uncertain,  but  each  minute  was 
bringing  me  strength,  though  the  afternoon  was 
stifling  hot.  To  avoid  the  heat  we  hugged  the 
shade  wherever  possible,  and  I  must  admit  that 
no  wench  ever  leaned  more  heavily  on  her  gallant's 
arm  than  did  I  on  Boyd's.  Our  way  led  us  past 
the  State-house,  and  here  under  leafy  locust 
trees  we  found  a  vast  crowd  assembled,  all  eyes 
turned  toward  the  building,  all  ears  strained  to 
catch  such  sounds  of  debate  as  might  escape 
through  the  open  windows.  Patriot  and  Tory 
were  side  by  side,  but  it  was  not  a  comforting 
day  for  the  Tory,  for  the  spirit  of  the  hour  was 
beginning  to  manifest  itself  more  and  more  in 
open  jeers  at  the  Loyalists.  As  the  hours  had 
dragged  along  the  enthusiasts  had  grown  more 
and  more  exasperated,  until  by  now  the  passions 
and  prejudices  were  so  wrought  up  that  open 
brawls  were  imminent. 

"  The  bellman  will  ring  the  news  if  they  sign," 
said  one  of  the  watchers  as  we  turned  away  from 
the  crowd. 

At  the  Langford  gate  Boyd  left  me,  and  I  made 
my  way  alone  up  the  broad  walk  to  the  door.  A 


102  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

black  servant  was  trimming  about  the  rose-bushes, 
and  in  an  angle  of  the  great  house  a  caged  canary 
was  pouring  forth  its  loudest  song.  I  glanced 
up  at  the  veranda  where  I  had  duelled  the  night 
before.  And  that  window  at  the  left  was  hers! 
I  paused  with  a  sudden  catch  of  my  breath. 
Was  that  the  flutter  of  a  handkerchief  at  the 
window?  No,  it  was  but  the  ripple  of  a  dainty 
curtain  as  the  wind  slipped  in  at  the  open  window. 
I  trudged  on  towards  the  door,  but  something 
had  caused  the  blood  to  swell  my  veins  until  my 
poor  head  ached  more  furiously  than  ever. 

I  lifted  the  great  brass  knocker  and  sent  a 
vicious  summons  thundering.  I  would  get  this 
letter  from  Langford  and  turn  my  back  forever 
on  the  nest  of  intrigue.  Of  a  truth,  I  had  made 
a  pretty  mess  of  my  mission.  What  terrible 
results  might  come  from  the  loss  of  my  despatches 
I  had  no  means  of  guessing,  but  here  I  was  humil- 
iated and  my  career  ruined  because  a  woman  had 
screamed  in  the  night.  Ah!  That  scream! 
Could  it  be  that  the  woman  who  voiced  it  was  in 
the  plot,  feeling  sure  that  I  would  do  just  as  I 
did? 

After  the  servant  had  directed  me  to  the  library 
I  dropped  into  a  chair  and  scowled  at  a  painting 
on  the  wall.  Was  this  girl  in  the  plot?  I  hated 


THE    CLANG    OF   A   BELL     103 

the  little  vixen  with  all  the  intensity  of  my  nature. 
I  knew  I  did,  for  ever  since  that  day  when  I  had 
marched  as  a  wounded  boy  through  Boston's 
streets  I  had  nourished  a  grudge  against  the 
freckle-faced  girl  who  had  thrown  pebbles  at 
me.  And  now  it  was  in  her  defence  that  my 
career  had  been  wrecked  beneath  her  father's 
roof. 

I  heard  a  step  in  the  doorway  and  turned  to 
see  the  black  face  of  Erasmus  there. 

"Beg  pahdon,  suh;  I  begs  pahdon.  I'se 
lookin'  fer— " 

"  Come  in  here,  Rassle,  you  link  of  memory," 
I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet. 

"  De  Lord  lub  us,  if  'tain't  Marse  Ian,  an'  him 
a-lookin'  like  er  Tory  nabob!  " 

"  And  does  your  present  grandness  teach  you 
to  make  remarks  about  your  master's  guests?  " 
I  demanded,  severely. 

"  No,  suh;  no,  suh,"  he  answered,  coming 
into  the  room.  "  I  suhtenly  begs  pahdon  agin 
fer  my  'pertinence  I'se  monstrous  gran'  hyar, 
an'  I  shorely  feels  bad  t'  think  dat  I'se  done 
f ergot  my  manners.  But,  Marse  Ian,  what  it  all 
mean?  I  ask  ye  will  ye  tell  ol'  Rassle  what 
become  o'  Marse  Soldier,  an'  wharfore  ye  become 
Marse  Silk  an'  Satin?  " 


io4  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  haven't  heard  of 
my  uniform  being  stolen?  " 

"  I  b'lieves  I  did,  suh;  I  b'lieves  I  did  hear  o' 
somethin'  bein'  tooken,  but  I  didn't  know  it 
was  Marse  Soldier's  clo'es!  " 

Then  I  recounted  to  him  the  events  of  the  night 
before,  and  when  I  told  him  of  the  fight  on  the 
veranda  and  my  return  in  my  night-dress,  the  old 
fellow  tittered. 

"  Te-he-he!  I  done  hears  about  dat.  01' 
Mammy  Sue's  Sammy  Jim  he  open  de  door  fer 
ye,  and,  Lord,  he  ain't  done  shakin'  yit,  he  dat 
skeert  o'  de  ha'nts.  Te-he-he!  Dat  boy  done 
tol'  us  dat  a  yarthquake  shook  de  house  an'  dat 
when  he  open  de  door  dar  stood  er  spook  ten  feet 
high  wid  er  sword  o'  fire  an'  er  robe  o'  grave 
clo'es.  He  said  de  ha'nt  let  go  er  bref  an'  de 
house  done  rattle  ergin,  an'  dat  when  he  run  de 
spirit  done  chase  him  an'  scorch  his  wool  wif  dat 
sword  o'  fire.  Te-he-he!  " 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  old  Langford  returns  I'll  be 
off,  and  Sammy  Jim  probably  will  not  see  any 
more  spooks,"  I  replied,  laughing. 

"  Ye  don'  know  Sammy  Jim,  Marse  Ian.  He 
gwine  ter  see  ha'nts  reg'lar  now.  OF  Unc'  Fair- 
fax, de  voodoo  man,  he  workin'  right  dis  minute 
on  er  charm  o'  rabbit  hair  an'  some  other  fixin's 


THE    CLANG    OF    A    BELL     105 

fer  Sammy  Jim  what'll  gib  him  power  ter  see 
ha'nts  wifout  no  hurt  comin'  ter  him.  Yes,  suh, 
he's  gwine  ter  see  'em  reg'lar  now." 

"  By  the  way,  Rassle,  is  the  Prince  about  the 
house?  " 

"  'Spec'  not,  suh.  Seed  him  an'  Missy  Gayle 
settin'  mighty  proud  like  on  hosses'  backs  an'  er 
gallopin'  down  de  street  about  a  hour  ergo." 

"  The  Prince  doesn't  like  me  very  well,  Rassle." 

I  spoke  in  an  unconcerned  way,  and  then  smiled 
at  the  comical  shake  of  the  darky's  head. 

"  Lord,  I  done  'spicioned  dat  very  thing  at  de 
banquet  last  night." 

"  Quite  a  lively  affair,  eh,  Rassle?  " 

"  Don'  want  no  more  like  it,  Marse  Ian.  I 
done  tol'  ye  ye'd  git  stinged  in  dis  hornets'  nest, 
an'  I  reckon  I  done  tol'  ye  right.  But  —  he-he-he! 
haw-haw-haw !  —  what  er  screechin'  dar  was 
when  ye  toasted  Marse  Gin'ral  Washington  an' 
de  Eagle!" 

The  old  fellow  placed  his  hands  on  his  hips 
and  shook  with  laughter. 

"  Lord  lub  ye,  Marse  Ian,"  he  continued, 
suddenly  growing  serious.  "  When  ol'  Rassle 
stood  dar  an'  heerd  ye  a-raisin'  de  debbil  wid  dem 
Tories,  I  says  ter  myself,  says  I,  '  Rassle,  dat 
Marse  Soldier  suhtenly  am  little  Marse  Ian,  fer 


106  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

dey  ain't  no  other  boy  ever  yit  growed  what'd 
have  such  'dacity.'  Ye  suhtenly  looked  mon- 
strous gran'  standin'  dar  jest  like  dis,  wif  er 
glass  held  way  up  high,  an'  er  sayin'  '  Yere's 
health  ter  Gin'ral  Washington! '  An'  let  me  —  " 

"  WeU!  " 

We  both  turned  to  see  Peter  Langford  standing 
in  the  library  door,  his  cane  planted  in  front  of 
him,  his  eyes  shooting  rage  at  Erasmus,  who 
immediately  began  bowing  and  stammering. 

"  Since  when  did  you  take  to  toasting  this 
rebel  general?  "  Langford  demanded,  and  then 
almost  in  the  same  breath  ordered  him  to  get  out 
of  the  room. 

"  You're  on  time,  I  see,"  he  said,  turning  to 
me. 

"  And  you  are  late,  I  see." 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  the  letter.  I've  been  down  to 
the  State-house  to  see  if  I  could  learn  what  new 
traitorous  action  these  rebels  will  take." 

"And  the  Declaration  —  will  they  sign?"  I 
asked,  eagerly. 

"  Sign?  Of  course  not.  They're  a  pack  of 
ingrates,  but  they  are  too  smart  to  follow  the 
lead  of  such  scatterbrains  as  Tom  Jefferson, 
Patrick  Henry,  and  the  rest  of  those  cursed 
Virginians." 


THE    CLANG    OF    A    BELL     107 

"  But  mark  you,  Peter  Langford.  If  the 
Declaration  be  not  signed  to-day  it  will  be  held 
up  before  the  people  until  sentiment  drives  the 
cowardly  delegates  to  put  their  signatures  to  it. 
But  I  believe  'twill  be  signed  to-day." 

The  blood  swelled  the  veins  in  his  face  and 
head,  and  he  trembled  with  rage  as  he  thumped 
the  floor  with  his  stick. 

"  Bah!  "  he  shrieked.  "  You  young  traitor, 
I'll  be  present  when  the  crowd  of  you  hang  for 
your  treason  to  King  George.  They'll  not  sign 
until  France  says  the  word,  and  King  Louis  will 
never  say  it." 

I  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  There 
was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring  now,  and  the 
leaves  of  bush  and  tree  hung  limp.  Somewhere 
near  at  hand  a  rooster  crowed  lonesomely,  and 
then  there  was  silence.  It  was  as  though  the 
world  breathlessly  awaited  those  tracings  of  ink. 

"  The  old  bellman  will  sound  the  signal  when 
'tis  done,"  I  said,  turning  to  Langford  again. 

"  Then  he'll  sound  your  death-knell;  but  he'll 
not  ring." 

He  said  something  more,  but  I  lost  the  words. 
I  had  heard  the  beat  of  hoofs,  and  glanced  out  of 
the  window  in  time  to  see  the  Prince  handing 
Gayle  Langford  to  the  ground.  The  next  minute 


io8  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

she  came  flying  up  the  stairway  and  burst  into 
the  room  like  a  shower  of  pink  and  white  blossoms. 

"  Papa,  they  say  the  Congress  - 

This  much  she  had  flung  off  her  tongue  ere  she 
had  time  to  see  me  and  check  herself.  Then  she 
paused,  embarrassed. 

"  Oh,  you  are  hurt!  "  she  exclaimed,  catching 
sight  of  the  bandage  around  my  head. 

"  No,  it's  just  —  that  is  —  I  mean  I  tied  that 
around  my  head  as  a  protection  from  the  heat," 
I  stammered. 

I  found  my  hatred  of  a  memory  fast  dimming. 
Instead  of  apologizing  for  her  abrupt  interruption, 
or  even  greeting  me,  she  had  followed  Sympathy 
and  given  voice  to  it  in  her  tone  and  action. 

"  What's  his  hurts  to  you,  Gayle?  "  demanded 
Langford,  angry  that  her  tone  had  been  kind. 

"  The  same  as  though  it  were  Erasmus,"  she 
replied.  "  I  hate  the  sight  of  bandages,  for  they 
speak  of  pain,  and  - 

"  Then  let  us  not  call  this  a  bandage,  but, 
rather,  the  white  flag  of  truce." 

"  Agreed.  Sound  the  '  parley.'  You  cannot  be 
badly  hurt  else  would  you  not  jest  so." 

"  But  what  meant  you  about  the  Congress?  " 
rasped  Langford,  and  the  pretty  speech  I  had  on 
my  tongue  melted  away. 


THE    CLANG    OF   A   BELL     109 

She  lashed  her  skirt  with  her  riding-whip. 

"  They  say  the  Congress  is  certain  to  sign  the 
Declaration!  " 

"  They  lie!    They'll  not  do  it!    It'll  mean  —  " 

"  War  more  terrible  than  ever,"  interrupted 
the  girl,  a  note  of  sadness  in  her  voice. 

"  It  will  mean  the  birth  of  a  nation!  "  I  cried. 

Langford  turned  to  his  table  and  snatched  up  a 
letter. 

"  Here!  "  he  shouted.  "  Here  is  my  reply  to 
that  imp  of  treason,  Washington.  Out  of  this 
house  and  —  " 

"  Clang !  " 

His  voice  died  in  his  throat,  and  his  jaw  dropped. 
He  stood  staring  straight  ahead,  seeing  nothing. 

"  Clang  !  "      "  Clang  !  " 

I  turned  to  the  girl.  She  was  deathly  pale,  and 
her  riding-whip,  bent  double,  was  clenched  in  both 
hands.  She  shivered  slightly,  as  though  a  sudden 
chill  had  struck  her.  Again  and  again  the  bell 
in  the  State-house  sounded  on  the  still  after- 
noon. 

"  They've  signed!  "  I  shouted,  and  sprang  to 
the  window,  wild  with  delight. 

The  streets  were  filling  with  people,  cries  and 
shouts  were  arising  from  every  hand,  and  soon 
the  bells  in  other  steeples  were  joining  in  the 


no  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

anthem  of  joy.  I  heard  a  gasp  and  turned  to  see 
Langford  swaying  unsteadily. 

"  The  traitors  !  The  traitors!  "  he  shrieked,  his 
hands  outstretched,  and  his  fingers  working  con- 
vulsively. ' '  They'll  hang  for  this !  The  King  —  ' ' 

The  girl  gave  a  cry  as  he  suddenly  sank  in  a 
heap  to  the  floor.  In  an  instant  we  both  were  at 
his  side,  but  a  look  into  his  purple  face  told  me 
that  he  had  burst  a  blood-vessel  in  his  brain  in 
his  paroxysm  of  rage,  and  it  was  my  judgment 
that  he  was  beyond  aid,  but  I  pounded  furiously 
on  a  call-bell  and  sent  a  servant  flying  for  a  doctor. 

"  He  must  have  a  leech!  "   I  said. 


CHAPTER  VI 

PROTECTING   THE   ENEMY 

SOON  the  house  was  in  an  uproar.      Mrs. 
Langford  was  absent  from  home,  and  the 
servants  ran   pell-mell  hither  and  thither, 
weeping  and  moaning  and  doing  no  good.     The 
Prince  came,  and  hostilities  between  us  were  sus- 
pended while  we  carried  the  dying  or  dead  man, 
we  scarcely  knew  which,  up  the  stairs  to  a  bed. 
Outside,  the  bells  were  still  keeping  up  their  wild 
clatter,    and    presently    we    began    hearing    the 
shouts  of  crowds  parading  the  streets. 

"  Death  to  Tories!  " 

The  cry  came  in  at  the  bedroom  window  from 
the  street  below,  and  I  glanced  at  the  German. 
His  usually  ruddy  face  had  paled,  and  his  hand 
was  unsteady  as  he  snatched  up  a  decanter, 
poured  a  glass  full  of  wine  and  gulped  it  at  a 
swallow.  Neither  of  us  spoke.  There  was  a 
medley  of  hoots  and  cries  from  the  streets,  and 
then  the  disturbers  passed  on. 

in 


ii2  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

The  physician  came,  but  a  moment  told  him 
the  story.  Peter  Langford  had  died  at  the  moment 
Liberty  was  born.  The  afternoon  waned,  but  I 
remained  in  the  house  at  the  simple  request  of 
Gayle  Langford. 

"  I  am  so  alone,"  she  said,  sobbing. 

And,  indeed,  she  was,  for  terror  stalked  on  the 
streets  of  Philadelphia  that  memorable  evening. 
Well  it  is  that  historians  have  failed  to  chronicle 
the  riotous  doings  of  those  hours  when  many 
zealous  Patriots  became  so  carried  away  by  their 
enthusiasm  that  they,  hot-headed,  followed  leaders 
whose  motives  were  revenge,  plunder,  anything 
that  such  an  occasion  might  offer.  These  men 
were  knaves  who  were  always  ready  to  break  into 
rioting,  and  such  a  time  as  this  was  not  to  be 
wasted,  so  that  those  who  had  upheld  the  King 
found  themselves  prisoners  in  their  homes,  not 
daring  to  venture  forth  to  counsel  with  those 
whose  sympathies  were  in  like  channels.  And  so 
it  was  that  Gayle  Langford  found  herself  so  alone 
with  no  sympathizing  one  of  her  own  sex  to 
mingle  tears  with  her  in  this  house  of  the  dead. 
That  Mrs.  Langford  had  sought  refuge  in  some 
friend's  house  we  doubted  not,  and  did  not  expect 
her  return  ere  the  morrow. 

At  early  dusk  Erasmus  was  sent  forth  to  learn 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  113 

what  was  taking  place.  We  were  in  the  drawing- 
room,  the  girl,  the  Prince,  and  I,  when  he  returned. 

"  'Fo'  God,  Marse  la  —  I  means  Missy  Lang- 
ford  —  I  suhtenly  is  upset  in  my  mind.  Bar's 
awful  doin's  up  town!  "  The  old  fellow  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  and  swayed  his  body  from 
side  to  side,  fright  depicted  in  every  line  of  his 
face  and  every  tone  of  his  voice.  "  Dey's  tearin' 
down  de  statue  o'  King  Geo'ge  an'  er  meltin'  it 
inter  bullets  wif  er  big  bonfire.  An'  all  de  time 
dey  howlin',  '  De  Tories  say  dey  sick  o'  dis  freedom 
talk.  Hyar's  pills  what'll  make  'em  well! ' 

"  Go  on,  Rassle,"   I  commanded,  as  he  paused. 

He  looked  at  the  girl,  and  she  nodded.  "  Tell 
us  all,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"  Oh,  de  good  God  pertect  us,  dar's  gwine  ter 
be  bad  doin's  dis  night!  "  he  suddenly  wailed. 
Then  he  turned  to  me  as  though  with  confidence. 
"  Marse  Ian,  dey  drinkin'  kill-debil,  an'  dey  don't 
pay  no  'tention  ter  de  mens  what  tries  ter  make 
'em  behave.  An'-— oh,  de  good  Lord,  Marse 
Ian  —  dey  fix  up  an  ol'  suit  er  clo'es  stuffed  wif 
straw  an'  dey  tie  er  rope  about  de  neck  an'  h'ist 
it  up  to  er  tree.  '  Dat  ol'  Pete  Langford,  de  Tory. 
He  gittin'  up  in  de  worl'  mighty  fast,'  some  one 
hollers,  an'  den  dey  all  laugh." 

I  heard  a  moan,  and  turned  in  time  to  see  the 


ii4  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

girl  sink  to  the  floor  in  a  heap.  I  looked  toward 
the  Prince,  but  he  was  striding  up  and  down  the 
room,  muttering,  "  Ach!  Gott!  "  over  and  over, 
and  paying  not  the  slightest  heed  to  the  girl, 
so  I  sprang  to  her  side  and  raised  her.  Her  face 
was  chalk-white,  and  there  was  a  dry  sob  in  her 
throat  as  she  struggled  to  her  feet  with  my 
assistance. 

"  I  thank  you,"  she  said  in  a  broken,  strained 
voice.  "  It  was  a  sudden  weakness,  but  I  am 
stronger  now.  Go  on,  Erasmus." 

"  I  cain't  tell  no  mo',  Missy.  I  stood  dar  a 
lookin'  an'  a  listenin'  till  all  to  once  some  one 
hollered,  '  Hyar's  ol'  Langford's  niggah  now,' 
but  befo'  dey  could  cotch  me,  dis  ol'  niggah  he 
turn  an'  dodge  down  er  alley  an'  run  fer  home 
jest  like  er  young  rabbit." 

Then  she  dismissed  him  and  ordered  the  candles 
lighted.  An  occasional  tremor  was  in  her  voice 
and  the  color  was  still  absent  from  her  cheeks, 
but  I  found  myself  admiring  the  wonderful  pluck 
of  this  girl  in  an  hour  so  fraught  with  peril  and 
grief  to  her.  She  ordered  supper  served,  but  old 
Erasmus  returned  shortly  bearing  the  intelligence 
that  not  a  servant  could  be  found  about  the  place. 

"  Dey's  dat  skeert  dey  all  done  run  erway  an' 
hide,"  he  said. 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  115 

But  no  one  cared  to  eat,  so  the  desertion  made 
but  little  difference.  Darkness  deepened,  and  I 
would  have  gone  forth  to  see  what  the  true  con- 
ditions were,  but  the  girl  begged  so  hard  for  me 
to  remain  that  I  did  so.  The  shutters  were  closed 
and  we  sat  in  an  up-stairs  room,  talking  but  little. 
In  a  room  on  the  same  floor  lay  the  body  of  Peter 
Langford.  Hoots  and  cries  came  at  intervals 
from  the  street,  and  through  the  cracks  of  the 
shutters  we  could  see  the  ruddy  glow  of  bonfires. 
The  Prince  had  recovered  his  composure  to  some 
extent. 

"  Ach!  Could  King  Louis  but  witness  the  noble 
acts  of  America's  Patriots,"  he  sneered. 

I  know  that  my  face  must  have  gone  a- flaming 
with  the  taunt,  but  in  the  presence  of  this  grief- 
burdened  girl  and  in  the  house  of  the  dead  I  could 
not  treat  his  insolence  as  it  deserved. 

"  Could  King  Louis  visit  Philadelphia  this 
night  he  would  see  not  the  Patriots,  but  the  evil 
ones  of  no  politics  abroad  in  deeds  of  violence. 
They'll  fight  in  neither  army,  but  plunder  both. 
With  the  dawn  order  will  be  restored." 

"  But  to-night?  The  sun  it  shines  not  yet  for 
some  hours !  ' ' 

"  In  the  meantime,  the  coward  heart  that  fears 
the  darkness  must  quake!  " 


n6  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

I  made  no  effort  to  mask  the  contempt  I  felt, 
but  turned  from  him  and  sank  into  a  chair.  The 
girl  had  sat  unheeding,  doubtless  unhearing,  our 
exchange.  Scarcely  had  I  touched  the  chair 
when  some  one  came  bounding  up  the  stairs, 
and  I  sprang  to  my  feet  just  as  Erasmus  came 
rushing  into  the  room,  puffing  and  blowing. 

"  Marse  Ian !  —  Missy!  —  Dey's  comin' !  Dey's 
comin'!"  he  gasped. 

"  Who  is  coming?  What  do  you  mean?  "  I 
asked,  as  the  girl  came  to  her  feet. 

"  O  Lord,  we'se  all  gwine  ter  be  hunged!  We'se 
gwine  ter  be  hunged!  " 

"  Speak  up,  Rassle!  What  is  it?  "  I  demanded, 
taking  him  by  the  shoulder  and  shaking  him  in 
my  impatience. 

"  De  mob!  I  sees  'em  comin'  wif  torches  an' 
er  rope.  An'  I  hears  'em  say  dey  gwine  ter  put 
tar  an'  feathers  on  Marse  Langford  an'  den  pull 
him  up  by  er  rope!  " 

"  You  heard  this,  Erasmus?  "   asked  the  girl. 

"  Yassum;  I  done  heered  it  wif  my  own  ears, 
Missy!  O  Lord,  I  wish't  I  hadn't." 

She  wheeled  to  me,  and  her  eyes  were  flashing 
once  more  with  hauteur  and  anger. 

"  So!  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  that  was  as 
metallic  as  the  clash  of  steel.  "  This  is  a  sample 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  117 

of  what  your  rebels'  policies  are  bringing  to  us! 
Ian  Lester,  Captain  of  Continentals,  I  salute  you 
and  compliment  you  on  your  gallant  follow- 
ing!  " 

Such  a  world  of  scorn  was  in  her  voice,  her 
eyes,  her  proud  face  with  tip-tilted  chin,  that  I 
dropped  my  eyes  before  her. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Mistress  Langford,  don't 
judge  us  so!  Tis  not  our  Patriots!  Tis  a  rabble 
such  as  any  city  harbors.  True,  the  people  are 
drunk  with  the  thought  of  independence,  but  —  " 

There  was  a  sudden  clamor  in  front  of  the  house 
and  I  paused. 

"  Aye,  drunk  with  the  broth  of  treason  that 
you  have  helped  brew!  "  she  exclaimed.  Then 
she  darted  to  the  window  and  flung  open  the 
shutters.  "  See!  "  she  cried,  pointing  to  where 
a  dozen  torches  were  flaring  under  the  trees. 
"  The  wolves  seek  their  kind!  Out  and  join  the 
pack,  you  rebel!  " 

To  my  dying  day  I'll  bear  in  my  mind  the 
picture  she  made  as  she  stood  there  in  the  candle- 
light, her  burning  eyes  shooting  sparks  of  fire 
into  mine,  her  arm  extended,  pointing  through 
the  open  window  to  where  the  half-drunken 
devils  below  were  approaching  the  house.  The 
mob  also  saw  the  open  window  and  the  girl 


ii8  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

framed  in  its  light,  and  a  stone  thrown  by  some 
brute  clattered  close  beside  the  casing. 

"  Have  a  care!  "  I  warned,  and  sprang  to  close 
the  shutters. 

But  her  hand  clutched  mine  and  jerked  my 
grasp  from  the  shutter. 

"  Stand  back!  "  she  cried.  "  I'll  not  hide  from 
such  as  they!  " 

Then  she  impulsively  flung  the  shutters  wide 
open  again,  and  before  I  could  stop  her  she  had 
leaned  far  out,  her  hand  uplifted  into  the  night. 

"  Long  live  the  King!  "  she  shouted. 

There  was  a  howl  of  rage  from  below,  and  I 
seized  her  roughly  about  the  waist,  and  by  main 
strength  I  dragged  her  back  from  the  window 
just  in  time  for  her  to  escape  the  shower  of  missiles 
that  came  from  the  rioters. 

"  In  God's  name,  keep  away  from  the  window!  " 
I  panted,  for  she  was  struggling  like  a  wildcat. 

"  I'll  not!  I'll  not!  I  despise  the  cowards! 
Prince !  Help  me ! ' ' 

I  glanced  about  the  room,  but  the  German 
was  not  there.  When  he  had  left  or  where  he 
had  gone  I  knew  not. 

"  The  Prince  is  not  here,"  I  replied,  still  forcing 
her  away  from  the  window. 

She  ceased  her  struggles  an  instant,  glanced 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  119 

about  the  room,  and  then  suddenly  sank  into  a 
chair,  sobbing. 

"  God,  I  am  deserted!  "  she  cried  hysterically. 
"  Let  them  come!  Let  them  kill  me!  "  She 
struggled  to  her  feet  again.  "  Let  me  die  at  my 
window.  I  am  helpless!  " 

I  pushed  her  back  into  the  chair,  and  in  a 
moment  had  the  shutters  closed  again. 

"  No,  no!  you  are  not  deserted!  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  'Fore  heaven,  Mistress  Langford,  I'll  stand 
between  you  and  them!  " 

A  thundering  summons  sounded  at  the  front 
door. 

"  Rassle!  " 

"Yes,  suh!" 

The  old  darky  was  standing  in  the  hallway 
moaning  and  praying. 

"  Are  the  doors  fastened?  " 

"  Done  bolted  'em  all  myself,  suh.  But,  O 
Lord!  Dey  cain't  stand  dat!  "  he  added  with  a 
wail  as  a  sudden  shock  announced  that  the  mob 
was  battering  at  the  door. 

"  Go  to  where  your  master  lies,  Rassle,  and  do 
your  best  to  make  them  respect  the  dead  if  they 
reach  there.  Go!  " 

Again  the  shock  came  at  the  door  and  I  knew 
that  the  mob  would  soon  batter  down  the  barrier. 


120  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Run  to  my  room  and  fetch  my  sword,"  I 
said  to  the  girl. 

She  darted  away  without  a  word,  and  I  ran 
down  the  stairs. 

"  What  do  you  want? "  I  demanded, 
loudly. 

"  Pete  Langford,  and  we're  goin'  to  have  him, 
too!  "  came  the  response,  at  which  there  was  a 
yell  of  approval,  and  a  chorus  of  cries  of  "  Death 
to  Tories!" 

"  Peter  Langford  has  gone!  "  I  cried. 

"  Gone  where?  " 

"  To  another  world.     He  is  dead!" 

A  mocking  laugh  came  to  me  through  the 
panels. 

"  You're  a  liar!  The  old  fox  is  hidin',  but  we'll 
drag  him  out  in  a  minute!  " 

Crash !  Crash !  A  battering-ram  was  splintering 
the  door,  and  already  I  could  see  the  light  of 
their  torches  through  the  shattered  panels. 

"  You'll  rot  in  prison  for  this!  "  I  yelled. 

Crash!  Crash!  Crash!  The  door  was  giving 
away,  and  I  wisely  retreated  up  the  stairs.  As  I 
reached  the  top  I  heard  a  final  crash  and  through 
the  doorway  poured  the  mob. 

"  Halt!  " 

I  raised  my  hand  threateningly,  and  the  pack 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  121 

of  human  wolves  paused  a  moment.  Gayle  Lang- 
ford  came  flying  down  the  hallway. 

' '  Quick !  My  sword ! "  I  whispered,  turning  to  her. 

"  It's  gone!  "  she  replied,  a  sob  of  despair  in 
her  voice. 

"Gone?     God  help  us!"   I  groaned. 

"  Damn  the  Tory  dandy!  "  shouted  one  of  the 
pack.  "  After  him  and  —  " 

"  A  moment!  Death  is  here!  "  I  cried,  trying 
to  gain  time,  I  knew  not  exactly  what  for. 
"  Quick,  make  your  escape!  "  I  added,  turning 
to  the  girl. 

Her  chin  went  up  in  her  proud  way. 

"  I  stay  with  you,"  she  said,  and  stepped 
closer. 

"  There's  a  devilish  pretty  girl  there,  too," 
came  from  below. 

"  You  hound!  You'll  never  live  to  touch  her!  " 
I  flung  back  at  him. 

All  of  the  fighting  blood  within  me  had  begun 
firing  my  brain  by  now,  and  I  was  ready  to  struggle 
and  bleed  and  die  laughing  if  I  could  batter  the 
life  from  the  bodies  of  some  of  those  below  me. 

"  And  who  are  you,  my  lace-cuffed  fashion- 
plate?  " 

I  parted  my  lips  to  reply,  but  the  sound  died 
on  my  tongue  as  a  voice  behind  me  spoke : 


122  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  I'll  tell  you  who  he  is." 

I  turned,  and  gasped  in  astonishment,  for  there 
stood  the  Prince  arrayed  in  my  uniform  and  with 
my  blade  at  his  side.  An  inarticulate  sound  came 
from  the  girl's  lips,  and  I  choked  back  a  flood  of 
curses. 

"  Lovers  of  liberty,  listen  to  me,"  said  the 
Prince.  "  I  am  Ian  Lester,  Captain  of  Continen- 
tals, and  here  stands  one  you  seek  —  a  Tory  spy !  " 

The  girl  sprang  forward. 

"  It's  a  lie!  "  she  screamed. 

Half  blind  with  fury,  I  sprang  at  the  German, 
without  a  word,  and  before  he  could  evade  my 
unexpected  move  I  had  him  by  the  throat.  He 
half -drew  the  sword,  but,  realizing  its  uselessness 
in  such  a  close  combat,  he  released  the  hilt  and 
tried  to  tear  my  hands  from  his  throat.  The 
knaves  below  made  a  rush  up  the  stairs,  but  when 
they  were  half-way  up  I  exerted  all  my  strength 
in  one  sudden  twist,  and,  lifting  the  Prince  off 
his  feet,  flung  him  headlong  down  the  stairs. 
He  clutched  for  support,  but  missed,  and  then 
went  plunging  into  those  crowding  the  stairs, 
bowling  three  or  four  of  them  over  like  tenpins, 
and  forming  a  squirming,  cursing  human  barricade 
in  front  of  the  rest. 

I  was  for  following  the  Prince  and  fighting  it 


LIFTING  THE  PKINCE  OFF  HIS  FEKT,  I  FIATNG  HIM  HEADLONG 
DOWN  THE  STAIRS.  —  Page  122. 


PROTECTING    THE   ENEMY  123 

out  on  the  stairway,  but  as  my  descending  foot 
touched  the  top  step  a  soft  hand  clutched  my  arm, 
and  Gayle  Langf ord  spoke  into  my  ear : 

"  Come,  follow  me.  Quick!  It's  hopeless 
here!  " 

In  a  flash  reason  returned  and  showed  me  she 
was  right.  I  did  as  bidden,  and,  holding  me  by 
the  hand  as  though  I  were  a  child,  she  sped  back 
the  hallway  and  turned  down  another  and  darker 
one,  while  behind  us  we  could  hear  pandemonium 
on  the  stairway  as  the  fallen  ones  struggled  to  free 
themselves.  Suddenly  the  girl  paused,  fumbled 
at  a  door-knob,  and  then  led  me  into  a  room.  She 
released  my  hand  and  in  an  instant  I  had  shot  the 
bolts  into  place. 

"  Listen!  "  she  said. 

Above  the  racket  we  could  hear  a  voice  shouting : 

"  After  him!     Hang  the  dog  of  a  spy!  " 

"  The  Prince!  "  whispered  the  girl,  and  a  note 
of  disgust  was  in  her  voice. 

"  They'll  hunt  us  out  in  a  few  minutes,"  I 
said.  "  What  have  we  for  defence?  " 

"  Nothing.  We  must  run  away.  They  will  kill 
you!  " 

"  It's  hateful  —  that  word,  '  run,'  but  there's 
no  help  for  it.  And  you  will  go  with  me?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  dare  stay?  " 


i24  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  No  —  no.  But  —  but  the  charge  that  Eras- 
mus guards?  " 

There  was  a  brief  pause.  "  The  dead  are  at 
rest  forever,"  she  said,  her  voice  low. 

As  she  spoke  she  groped  across  the  room  to  a 
window  and  opened  the  heavy  shutters.  Behind 
us  we  could  hear  confusion  in  the  hallways  and 
many  voices  shouting  divers  things. 

"  This  is  our  only  chance,"  she  said,  as  I 
reached  her  side. 

I  looked  out.  It  was  a  sheer  drop  of  thirty  feet 
to  the  ground,  and  not  a  vine  to  which  we  could 
cling  in  descending. 

"  It's  no  use,"  I  said.  "  I  had  better  make  a 
fight.  A  jump  means  broken  bones." 

"  And  to  fight  means  death  to  you  —  and  — 
and  worse  for  me  from  those  brutes!  " 

"Yes  —  you're  right!  And  they're  coming! 
I'll  go  first  and  catch  you!  " 

We  could  hear  them  streaming  down  the  hall, 
cursing  as  they  searched  first  one  room  and  then 
another. 

"  A  rope  for  the  spy  and  lovin'  arms  for  the 
Tory  wench,"  bellowed  one. 

It  was  the  last  threat  rather  than  fear  of  the 
rope  that  put  my  feet  on  the  window-sill,  and  I 
was  slipping  over  the  edge,  teeth  hard  set  for 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  125 

the  fall,  when  I  felt  her  hand  on  my  arm  once 
more. 

"  Wait!  Come  back!  "  she  whispered  eagerly, 
and  as  I  paused  I  saw  her  seize  her  broad  sash, 
undo  the  knot  with  a  jerk,  and  the  next  moment 
she  had  unwound  it  from  about  her  waist  and 
was  holding  it  towards  me. 

"  A  rope!  "  she  exclaimed. 

I  clutched  the  sash  and  felt  of  its  texture. 

"  It  will  never  hold  unless  doubled  —  and  then 
it  will  be  far  too  short." 

I  am  sure  I  groaned,  for  hope  had  flared  high 
in  my  breast,  and  now  its  ashes  were  choking  me. 

"  Have  you  nothing  else?  "  I  asked. 

"  Nothing  —  unless  --  unless  —  Turn  your 
back,  sir!  "  she  suddenly  commanded. 

I  did  as  I  was  bidden,  and  at  the  same  instant 
I  heard  the  swish  of  feminine  draperies. 

"Here,  take  this!  No  —  don't  look  at  me," 
she  cried,  and  then  I  found  myself  clutching  the 
long  wrapper  she  had  worn.  I  know  I  acted  like 
a  dunce,  for  I  stood  there  without  action,  and  she 
stamped  her  foot  in  a  justifiable  fury  of  impatience. 

"  Don't  stand  and  stare!  Tie  the  arms  to  this 
doubled  sash,  and  the  sash  to  this  table." 

A  step  in  the  hall  near  our  door  aroused  me, 
and  in  a  trice  I  had  obeyed  the  orders  of  my  fair 


i26  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

commander.  The  table  was  dragged  to  the  win- 
dow, and  with  the  improvised  rope  in  my  hands 
I  was  once  more  on  the  sill  just  as  a  rough  hand 
grasped  the  knob. 

"Ha!  A  bolted  door!  Ho!  This  way!  We'll 
find  our  game  in  here!  "  roared  a  voice,  and  I 
heard  them  coming.  There  was  a  smothered 
moan  from  somewhere  in  the  darkness  of  the 
room  where  the  girl  was  crouching. 

"  When  the  sash  slacks,  follow  me  quickly!  " 
I  said,  and  slid  down  into  space. 

I  felt  the  flimsy  stuff  stretch  and  give  beneath 
my  weight,  and  I  expected  each  breath  that  it 
would  break,  but  I  was  nimble  and  soon  found 
myself  at  the  end.  I  cast  one  look  towards  the 
ground,  but  it  lay  in  shadow  and  I  knew  not  how 
far  away.  There  was  no  time  for  speculation,  for 
I  could  hear  the  door  above  being  battered.  I 
set  my  teeth  and  dropped.  I  must  have  fallen 
ten  feet,  and  the  drop  near  knocked  the  breath 
from  my  body.  Then  as  I  scrambled  to  my  feet 
and  looked  up  I  heard  the  door  splintering  and 
saw  the  dull  gleam  of  the  torches  shining  into  the 
room.  And  then  —  !  I  caught  my  breath,  for 
there  in  the  window,  in  clinging  garments  of 
white,  was  a  slight  figure  sharply  outlined  by  the 
dull  glow. 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  127 

"Come!"  I  cried. 

"  Don't  you  dare  look! "  she  replied,  the 
eternal  feminine  mastering  her  even  in  that 
moment  of  peril. 

Obediently  I  dropped  rny  eyes  for  the  instant, 
but  her  danger  was  too  great,  and  I  looked  up 
to  see  her  swaying  in  mid-air  like  a  nymph  from 
another  world.  The  torches'  glow  became  a  glare 
and  I  knew  the  mob  had  broken  into  the  room. 

"  Hurry!  I'll  catch  you!  "  I  called  to  her, 
and  braced  myself  with  my  eyes  glued  on  the 
swaying  figure. 

"  Hell  and  furies,  the  window!  "  shouted  some 
one  from  above,  and  a  face  peered  out.  The  girl, 
descending  slowly,  was  still  far  from  the  end  of 
the  wrapper-rope. 

"Ha!  There's  a  nibble  at  the  line!  We'll 
land  one  of  the  fish  yet,"  came  the  shout. 

The  knave  seized  the  sash,  and,  calling  for 
help,  began  tugging  at  it  in  an  endeavor  to  pull 
the  girl  back  into  the  room.  Then  of  a  sudden 
I  heard  a  tear,  the  wrapper  parted,  and  with  a 
half -scream  Gayle  Langford  plunged  down  to  my 
waiting  arms.  I  saw  the  fellow  at  the  window 
stagger  back  as  the  resistance  ceased,  and  then  a 
human  thunderbolt  landed  in  my  arms  and  I 
went  down  under  the  shock.  For  a  moment  I 


128  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

lay  dazed  and  gasping,  my  face  to  the  sky,  and 
then  I  became  conscious  of  a  dead  weight  lying 
across  my  chest.  I  put  out  one  hand  and  it 
rested  on  a  mass  of  dishevelled  hair. 

"  Are  you  hurt?  "    I  asked  eagerly. 

There  was  no  reply.  The  girl  lay  quite  still, 
and  a  terrible  fear  pierced  me.  Had  her  neck  been 
broken  by  the  fall?  Rolling  her  gently  from  me 
to  the  grass,  I  felt  for  her  pulse,  but  in  my  eager- 
ness I  clasped  the  slender  wrist  everywhere  but 
in  the  right  spot,  and  finally,  with  a  feeling  of 
transgression,  I  placed  my  hand  over  her  heart, 
but  her  stays  foiled  me.  Whether  or  not  there 
was  a  pulsation  beyond  that  armament  I  knew 
not,  and  no  time  was  left  me  to  ponder,  for  a 
flaring  torch  was  poked  out  of  the  window  above. 

"  Here  they  are!  " 

The  report  of  a  pistol  echoed  the  words,  and  I 
felt  the  wind  of  the  bullet  as  it  zipped  close  to 
my  ear. 

To  hesitate  was  to  invite  death.  I  picked  the 
girl  up  in  my  arms  and  ran  as  well  as  I  could. 
The  night  had  grown  intensely  dark,  a  storm  was 
gathering,  and  already  I  could  hear  the  muttering 
thunder,  rolling  nearer  and  nearer.  As  I  plunged 
into  the  darkness  of  the  small  park  in  the  rear 
of  the  mansion  I  came  near  colliding  with  a  tree, 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  129 

and  this  taught  me  caution.  Not  a  sign  of  life 
came  from  my  burden,  whose  slight  form  hung 
limp.  That  it  probably  would  be  but  a  few 
minutes  until  the  pack  would  be  after  us  I  doubted 
not.  Perhaps  for  my  life  they  cared  little,  but 
the  girl?  For  her —  ! 

I  heard  the  splash  of  water  near,  and,  thread- 
ing my  way  among  the  trees,  came  to  a  small 
fountain.  Laying  the  girl  down,  I  dashed  hand- 
fuls  of  the  water  into  her  face,  and  soon  had  the 
delight  of  hearing  her  draw  a  deep  breath.  After 
all,  she  had  been  but  stunned  by  the  fall.  Another 
dash  of  water,  and  she  sat  up. 

"I  —  I  fell,  did  I  not?  "  she  asked  in  such  a 
serious  vein  that  I  laughed  outright. 

"  I  think  you  did,"  I  replied. 

Then  her  scattered  wits  returned,  and  she 
came  to  her  feet,  a  white  apparition  in  the  gloom. 

"  But  how  came  I  here?    I  could  not  walk!  " 

I  detected  a  note  in  her  voice  that  made  me 
stammer  in  an  effort  to  invent  a  lie. 

"  Hold  your  tongue!  "  she  said  sharply.  "  You 
must  have  carried  me.  I  —  was  in  —  your  arms ! ' ' 

"  It  was  necessary,  believe  me,"  I  replied, 
humbly. 

A  flash  of  lightning  came  and  she  shrank  back 
in  embarrassment. 


i3o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Turn  your  back,  sir! "  she  commanded. 
"  Where  is  my  —  my  wrapper?  It  fell  with  me." 

Inwardly  I  cursed  myself  for  a  blundering, 
thoughtless  dolt.  I  had  forgotten  it,  and  when 
I  blurted  out  this  statement,  she  began  to  sob. 

"  Don't! "  I  implored.  "  Wait  here,  and, 
'fore  God,  I'll  go  back  after  the  gown!  " 

I  was  already  turning  towards  the  house  when 
she  stopped  me. 

"  No,  no!  I'm  a  heartless,  o'ermodest  wretch. 
I'm  sorry  for  what  I  said,  Captain  Lester.  We 
must  leave  here  at  once  —  but  —  you  go  first, 
won't  you?  I'll  follow  and  direct." 

I  jerked  off  my  long,  swallow-tailed  coat  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

"  Wrap  this  about  you.  It  will  help  protect 
you." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  slipped  the 
garment  on,  with  a  sweet  word  of  thanks. 

A  moment  longer  we  stood  discussing  our  pre- 
dicament. Where  should  we  go?  In  the  wild 
riots  of  that  night,  which,  as  I  have  said,  history 
has  kindly  ignored,  there  was  not  where  for  us 
to  turn  for  shelter.  Her  Tory  friends  undoubtedly 
were  besieged  or  barricaded  as  we  had  been,  and 
there  would  be  small  chance  of  our  gaining  admit- 
tance into  any  Patriot  homes. 


PROTECTING    THE    ENEMY  131 

Shouts  and  the  light  of  torches  near  the  building 
cut  short  our  deliberations  and  sent  us  scurrying 
through  the  park,  the  girl  shrinking  from  the  main 
streets  because  of  her  scant  attire,  and  I,  myself, 
being  a  strange  sight,  coatless,  hatless,  and  with 
a  bandage  about  my  head. 

Down  dark  side  streets  we  hurried,  often  being 
compelled  to  dodge  down  alleyways  and  across 
open  lots  by  sudden  clamors  in  front  of  us.  My 
reckless  nature  rebelled  at  this  running  and 
skulking,  but  when  I  objected  she  washed  my 
opposition  away  with  tears  and  a  declaration 
that  she  was  near  to  dying  with  shame  as  it  was, 
and  to  come  into  light  places  with  a  staring  crowd 
about  her  would  surely  kill  her.  And  so  we 
dodged,  and  ran,  and  hid,  this  way  and  that,  I 
in  the  lead  always,  until  I  swore  that  my  shame 
was  becoming  greater  than  hers.  At  last  we 
darted  down  a  dark  avenue,  and  in  a  few  moments 
we  found  our  further  progress  blocked  by  a  small 
river. 

"The  Schuylkffl,"  she  said.  "0  dear,  I 
must  have  become  confused." 

Not  far  away  a  crowd  of  revellers  began  singing 
a  ribald  song.  I  could  hear  the  girl  gasp. 

"  Oh,  they  are  coming  towards  the  river!  "  she 
cried. 


132  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

11  Well,  shall  we  jump  in  and  swim?  "  I  asked, 
as  sarcastically  as  I  could.  "  Or  will  you  let  me 
fight  a  way  through  them?  " 

"  No,  no,  no!  Let's  not  let  them  see  us. 
Maybe  there  is  a  boat  some  place  near.  Look 
quickly.  There  must  be  a  boat !" 

I  walked  slowly  along  the  river  bank,  not  heed- 
ing her  imploring  cries  to  hurry.  In  truth,  I  was 
sick  of  this  running  away,  and  was  hungering  for 
a  fight.  My  spirit  demanded  it  as  the  only  means 
of  restoring  my  self-respect  to  its  throne.  Sud- 
denly I  heard  her  footsteps,  and,  looking  around, 
I  saw  the  dull  outline  of  her  white  skirts  below 
my  coat  moving  along  the  bank,  and  knew  that 
she  was  also  searching.  With  a  wicked  grin,  I 
stopped,  with  my  hands  on  my  hips,  and  began 
whistling  a  gay  tune. 

"  You  wretch!  "  she  cried.  "I'll  never  for- 
give -  Oh,  Heaven  be  praised!  Here  is  a  boat! 
I  knew  I  could  find  one." 

"  Good  fairy  princess,  can  you  not  wave  your 
wand  again  and  materialize  some  giant  stork  on 
whose  back  we  can  fly  to  safety  from  a  few  drunken 
clowns?  " 

I  heard  the  rattle  of  a  chain,  and  knew  she  was 
trying  to  handle  the  boat. 

"  Come  and  help  me,  please,"  she  implored. 


PROTECTING    THE   ENEMY  133 

"  There  is  really  no  hurry,"  I  responded, 
tantalizingly,  and  listening  to  the  approach  of 
the  roisterers,  to  whom,  doubtless,  the  boat  be- 
longed. 

No  word  came  in  reply,  but  I  saw  a  sudden 
collapse  of  something  in  white,  and  prostrate  on 
the  river's  bank  I  heard  her  crying. 

Heigho!  The  magic  of  a  woman's  tears! 
They  sent  me  to  her;  they  raised  her  from  the 
sod;  they  swung  the  boat  from  the  bank  into  the 
stream;  they  bent  my  back  to  the  pull  of  the 
oars  while  she  sat  in  a  wretched  heap  in  the  stern ; 
they  robbed  me  of  the  lust  for  combat,  and  when 
we  heard  the  men  shouting  and  cursing  as  they 
searched  for  their  boat,  and  I  saw  her  cower  down 
into  the  seat,  a  thrill  of  pleasure  came  to  my 
heart  because  I  had  yielded  to  her  tears  and  had 
fled  from  insult  to  her. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WANDERERS 

THE   thunder   of    the   approaching   storm 
still   growled,  and  an  occasional  flash  of 
lightning   lighted   up   the    heavens    and 
made  the  water  look  blacker  than  ever.     For  a 
long  time  not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  of  us. 
There  were  but  few  craft  on  the  river  that  night, 
and  I  had  but  little  trouble  in  avoiding  them. 
We  could  still  see  the  glare  of  bonfires  up  in  the 
city,  and  ever  and  anon  could  hear  the  cries  of 
the  crowds  that  paraded  the  streets. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  "  asked  the  girl,  pres- 
ently. 

"  Taking  an  excursion  into  the  Unknown 
Somewhere,"  I  replied  lightly. 

In  truth,  I  had  no  idea  where  our  voyage  would 
end,  but  I  began  to  realize  more  and  more  that 
it  would  not  do  to  land  in  Philadelphia  that 
night,  for  there  was  not  where  to  take  the  girl. 

134 


WANDERERS  135 

It  would  profit  me  nothing  to  fight.  The  insult 
to  her  in  her  scant  attire  would  not  be  hushed, 
and,  besides,  I  was  only  one  and  they  were  many. 

And  so  I  bent  to  the  oars,  an  anxious  eye  on 
the  approaching  storm.  The  lights  of  the  city 
slowly  winked  away  and  we  found  ourselves  in 
the  stillness  of  the  open  country.  A  few  drops 
of  rain  fell,  and  my  spirits  did  likewise.  What 
was  I  to  do  with  the  maid,  afloat  in  an  open  boat 
in  a  rain-storm?  Of  a  surety,  the  exposure 
would  kill  her.  Rough,  hardened  soldier,  the 
storm  meant  nothing  to  me,  but  Gayle  Langford 
was  tender  reared. 

The  wind  freshened,  and  then,  close  on  a  clap 
of  thunder  that  seemed  to  crack  the  rugged  hills, 
came  a  dash  of  rain. 

"  Look!  "  she  suddenly  cried. 

I  saw  her  outstretched  hand  in  the  darkness, 
and  turned  my  head,  the  next  lightning  flash 
showing  me  an  overhanging  cliff  on  the  left  bank. 

"  We  can  shelter  there!  " 

I  wasted  no  word  in  reply,  but  with  a  terrific 
straining  at  the  oars  sent  the  boat  shooting  under 
the  crags,  where,  as  the  storm  was  blowing  from 
the  southwest,  we  were  completely  sheltered. 
'  The  fairy  princess  once  more,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  the  horror  of  it  all!  "  she  replied. 


136  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

The  wind  had  risen  and  was  whipping  the  little 
river  into  froth,  while  the  rain  came  down  in 
torrents. 

"Poor  girl!" 

My  tone  must  have  been  heavy  with  compassion, 
for  it  stiffened  my  companion's  courage. 

"  But  think  of  yourself,  Captain  Lester.  Was 
ever  soldier  so  ensnared  by  the  woes  of  a  miserable 
woman?  " 

"  I  would  be  unworthy  the  name  of  soldier  did 
a  pang  of  regret  rest  in  my  heart  for  whatever  I 
have  been  able  to  do  for  you." 

"  And  sometimes  I  have  been  horrid,  but  I  — 
really  —  I  have  been  so  spoiled,  Captain." 

Her  tone  was  so  humble  that  I  smiled,  aware 
that  the  darkness  would  hide  it. 

"  A  night  in  this  boat  beneath  these  crags  will 
be  sufficient  penance,"  I  replied. 

"  I  am  quite  comfortable." 

"  You  mean  you  will  not  complain.  It  is  brave 
of  you." 

"No!  No!  Don't  say  that!  You  forget  I 
made  you  run  like  a  coward." 

"  I  know  now  that  it  was  best.  I  could  not 
have  saved  you  from  insult." 

"  But  you  could  have  saved  your  pride." 

"  Pride?     I  had  it  once,  but  lost  it  with  my 


WANDERERS  137 

des  —  with  my  uniform."  I  had  come  near  to 
uttering  the  word. 

I  used  the  oars  gently,  just  enough  to  maintain 
our  position  and  keep  the  boat  from  going  from 
under  the  crags  with  the  current.  She  was  silent 
a  long  time. 

"  In  either  instance,"  she  said  at  last,  "  'twas 
lost  in  my  defence." 

Then  her  grief  at  her  father's  death  swept  over 
her  and  she  cried  aloud  in  the  agony  of  her 
sorrow.  And  I,  great  hulking  fellow,  sat  there 
but  a  few  feet  distant  and  did  nothing  but  paddle 
with  the  oars.  I  tried  to  think  of  something  to 
say,  but  could  not.  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  admit 
that  I  longed  to  take  her  in  my  arms  and  comfort 
her,  for  I  felt  that  with  her  ears  close  to  my  lips 
I  could  whisper  something,  I  knew  not  just  what, 
but  something  with  the  magic  of  solace  in  it. 
In  my  mental  turmoil  I  gave  the  oars  a  vicious 
pull  that  sent  the  boat  flying  out  into  midstream. 

"  Oh-h-h!  "  she  gasped. 

The  rain  dashed  into  my  face  and  brought  me 
to  my  senses. 

"  Idiot!  "  I  said  to  myself,  pulling  back  to 
shelter. 

Then  I  found  my  tongue  and  by  eloquently 
outraging  my  conscience  succeeded  in  convincing 


138  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

her  that  the  rioters  would  respect  the  dead,  an 
assurance  I  did  not  feel  at  all. 

But  'tis  a  miserable  tale,  the  story  of  that  night. 
I  sat  at  the  oars  during  the  long  hours,  keeping 
the  boat  under  the  sheltering  cliffs,  and  the  girl 
sobbed  herself  to  exhaustion,  and,  huddled  down 
in  the  boat's  stern,  fell  asleep.  In  my  weary 
vigil  I  had  but  my  own  rioting  thoughts  for 
company,  and  gloomy  entertainment  they  fur- 
nished. 

I  thought  of  Washington.  Somewhere  off  to 
the  east  the  Chief  was  planning  for  the  cause  of 
liberty,  full  confident  that  the  young  captain  he 
had  sent  as  a  courier  to  Congress  would  do  his 
duty.  And  had  I  done  it?  The  girl  murmured 
something  in  her  uneasy  slumber  and  I  stared  at 
her  in  the  darkness  and  storm.  God  knows  I 
loved  my  country!  On  more  than  one  occasion 
had  I  diced  with  death  in  serving  the  cause.  But 
what  quality  of  patriotism  was  it  that  demanded 
of  me  that  I  ignore  suffering  womanhood  in 
devotion  to  a  political  principle? 

With  the  waning  of  the  night  the  storm  lessened 
gradually,  finally  rolling  itself  away  to  the  east- 
ward, followed  by  a  rear-guard  of  spiteful  lightning 
flashes.  The  clouds  hung  heavy,  though,  and 
there  was  no  rosy  flush  in  the  dawn,  but,  instead, 


WANDERERS  139 

it  came  dull  and  sullen,  as  though  night  had 
turned  a  gray  pallor.  In  the  boat's  stern  the 
girl  still  slept  in  her  weariness.  Her  bronze  hair 
was  tumbled  about  her  face,  but  it  gave  to  it  an 
added  charm.  From  her  closed  eyes  a  tear  had 
escaped  and  lay  close  to  the  end  of  the  long  lashes. 
A  flood  of  pity  for  her,  bereaved  and  thrown  on 
the  rough  mercies  of  a  strange  soldier,  —  aye,  a 
rebel,  —  came  to  me  as  I  gazed  at  her  huddled 
there  beneath  my  coat.  But  of  a  sudden  her  eyes 
opened  and  trapped  my  stare  full  on  her  face, 
and  a  wave  of  red  mounted  slowly  from  her 
throat  to  her  brow. 

"  I  crave  a  pardon;  I  but  pity  you!  "  I  cried. 

She  drew  the  coat  closer  about  her. 

"  What  right  have  I  to  resent  a  stare?  "  she 
asked,  slowly. 

"  The  right  of  a  queen!  "  I  exclaimed. 

;<  Then  I  also  have  the  power  to  pardon  —  and 
I  do  so." 

A  sad  smile  accompanied  the  words,  and  I 
turned  to  my  oars  as  a  relief  from  embarrassment. 

"What  now,  Captain?" 

"  Up  the  river,  I  suppose.    What  is  your  wish?  " 

"  Whatever  is  best.  But  we  cannot  spend  our 
lives  in  this  boat." 

"Alas,  no!" 


i4o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

'Twas  a  rash  slip  of  my  unruly  tongue,  and,  as 
I  saw  the  hauteur  leap  into  her  eyes,  with  a  jerk 
of  the  oars  I  sent  the  boat  out  into  the  stream. 
The  scene  was  a  dreary  one.  Stretching  back 
from  the  river,  now  muddy  and  swollen  from  the 
night's  rain,  the  hills  lay  sodden  in  the  mists  of 
the  gray  morning;  from  an  old  log,  half -sub- 
merged, a  monster  turtle  slid  into  the  river  as  I 
rowed  past,  and  from  off  in  the  woodlands  came 
the  morning  chorus  of  birdland.  For  an  hour  we 
voyaged  with  slight  conversation.  The  little 
Tory  sat  bundled  to  the  chin  in  my  coat,  but 
below  it  fluffed  an  expanse  of  white  skirt  much 
too  short  to  conceal  a  goodly  bit  of  bewitching 
ankle  in  gay  hosiery,  and  with  dainty  feet  encased 
in  slippers  of  red. 

"  Will  milady  order  her  breakfast?  "  I  asked, 
jocularly,  striving  to  dispel  the  gloom. 

"  I  think  I  will  order  a  tale  of  adventure." 
Her  eyes  were  on  me  in  a  curious  way. 

"  And  tell  it  yourself?  "  I  queried. 

"  Nay,  I  am  curious  for  a  better  one.  Captain, 
that  scar!  " 

She  leaned  forward  and  pointed  to  my  forehead, 
the  wind  having  blown  my  hair  back  unnoticed 
by  me. 

"  I  fear  you  will  not  enjoy  it." 


WANDERERS  141 

"  But  my  woman's  curiosity  will  torture  me." 
She  smiled  at  her  words. 

"'Twill  be  a  tale  of  blood  —  and  death;  a 
story  of  a  boy  who  became  a  man  in  a  night  of 
storm  and  a  morning  of  horror;  of  a  boy  who 
walked,  wounded,  between  British  soldiers  ahead 
of  his  father's  body;  a  tale  of  a  little  girl  who 
stood  on  Boston's  streets  and  threw  pebbles  at 
the  boy.  It  will  —  " 

"  Don't!    Don't!  "  she  cried. 

As  I  had  proceeded  I  saw  doubt,  realization, 
sorrow,  replacing  each  other  in  her  eyes,  and  then 
she  stretched  out  her  hands  to  me  imploringly 
as  the  flood-gates  of  memory  opened. 

"  You  were  on  the  Eagle  f  " 

"  I  received  that  scar  on  her  deck." 

"  And  I  —  I  —  scourged  you." 

"  You  were  far  too  young  to  be  responsible." 

"  But  I  cried  when  I  saw  them  carrying  your 
father's  body." 

"  I  know  it.  It  has  softened  a  memory  I  have 
hated." 

She  looked  at  me,  a  sudden  alarm  showing  in 
her  eyes. 

"  And  I  am  in  your  power  now!  "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Such  power  as  I  have  —  yes." 


142  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"And  you  —  " 

"  Will  spend  the  last  vestige  of  that  weak 
power  in  your  defence." 

Again  she  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  and  I  was 
in  no  mood  to  speak.  Her  next  words  were  of 
her  home,  her  father,  her  mother.  Could  Erasmus 
protect  the  dead?  Not  once  did  the  Prince's 
name  pass  her  lips.  I  comforted  her  as  best  I 
could,  telling  her  that  as  soon  as  an  inviting  spot 
was  found  we  would  land  and  seek  shelter  at  some 
farmhouse,  and  that,  doubtless,  some  way  could 
be  found  to  send  her  back  to  the  city.  And  so  I 
pulled  away  more  lustily  than  ever,  and  finally 
the  sun  broke  through  the  gray  cloud  banks,  and 
the  world  again  wore  a  smile,  though  the  added 
warmth  soon  brought  the  perspiration  to  my 
brow. 

"  We  must  be  near  Valley  Forge,"  said  the 
girl. 

I  made  no  reply,  but  scanned  the  shores  closely 
for  some  place  of  landing.  The  excitement  of 
the  night,  and  its  exertions,  had  caused  my  bruised 
head  to  hurt  terribly.  Pains  darted  from  temple 
to  temple,  and  once  I  seemed  sinking  into  a 
stupor,  and  was  aroused  by  her  sharp  cry  just 
in  time  to  avoid  splitting  the  boat  on  a  jagged 
rock  that  rose  from  the  river's  bed. 


WANDERERS  143 

"  Your  face  is  very  white,"  she  said.  "  Are 
you  ill?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  —  a  little,"  I  admitted. 

"  Then  let  me  row." 

"No!    No!" 

I  shook  my  head  as  though  to  clear  it  of  its 
agonies,  and  pulled  more  desperately  than  before, 
but  it  was  not  for  long.  Things  became  confused ; 
I  dropped  an  oar,  and  it  was  only  her  quick  clutch 
that  saved  it  from  being  swept  away. 

"  You  must  let  me  row.  I  have  been  on  the 
river  often." 

Weak  and  half-blind  with  suffering,  I  obeyed 
like  a  child  and  crawled  on  hands  and  knees  to 
the  boat's  stern,  where  I  lay  exhausted,  but  once 
I  roused  slightly  and  saw  Gayle  Langford  bending 
to  the  oars,  her  copperish  hair  glinting  in  the 
morning  sun,  my  coat  falling  open  and  disclosing 
a  snowy  neck  and  bare  shoulder.  Then  I  must 
have  fainted,  for  I  remember  nothing  more  until 
a  scrape  on  the  boat's  bottom  aroused  me  and  I 
saw  her  stepping  ashore,  the  chain  in  hand.  I 
staggered  to  my  feet,  but  the  boat  rocked,  I 
lost  my  balance  and  in  an  instant  was  in  the 
river,  her  scream  sounding  in  my  ears  as  I  went 
down.  But  the  water  spurred  my  energies  and 
cleared  my  brain  for  a  time,  and  as  it  was  but  a 


144  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

few  feet  in  depth  there,  I  quickly  recovered  my- 
self and  waded  ashore,  where  I  stood  dripping 
before  her. 

"  The  plunge  did  me  good,"  I  said. 

"  There  is  a  house  just  around  that  hill,"  she 
replied,  pointing.  "  I  saw  it  from  the  river's 
bend,  but  this  was  the  only  place  I  could  find  a 
landing." 

We  fastened  the  boat  chain  to  a  sapling  and 
trudged  away  in  search  of  shelter,  but  my  strength, 
which  had  been  rallied  by  my  plunge  into  the 
river,  rapidly  deserted  me,  and  as  we  walked  I 
found  my  footsteps  growing  unsteady.  Once  I 
stumbled  and  would  have  fallen  had  she  not 
clutched  me  by  the  shoulder.  Her  exclamation 
of  alarm  again  goaded  my  flagging  powers,  and 
as  I  drew  myself  erect  and  stepped  out  with  a 
great  show  of  firmness  I  tried  to  laugh  away  my 
stumble  as  a  bit  of  awkwardness. 

"  We  will  soon  reach  the  house,"  she  said, 
and  the  trembling  note  in  her  voice,  together 
with  the  uneasiness  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked  into 
my  face  told  me  that  I  could  not  deceive  her. 
In  truth,  had  I  but  known  it,  the  looks  of  me 
were  enough  to  bring  cheer  to  the  heart  of  an 
undertaker. 

"  This   hill  is  very  steep,"   I   mumbled.     In 


WANDERERS  145 

after  days  I  walked  the  same  path  again  and 
found  that  'twas  almost  level. 

"  Ah,  the  house!  "  she  cried,  and  ahead  of  us 
I  could  see  a  white  building  of  some  kind,  though 
the  outlines  were  confused. 

My  feet  seemed  leaden,  but  I  felt  her  hand 
suddenly  seize  my  arm  and  I  was  conscious  that 
I  was  being  sustained  and  guided.  I  knew  when 
we  passed  a  gate,  and  again  I  summoned  every 
ounce  of  my  strength  to  clear  my  befogged  brain. 
In  the  shade  of  a  fruit-tree  I  saw  a  girl  seated  at 
a  spinning-wheel,  her  back  towards  us,  the  whirr 
of  the  wheel  and  the  song  she  was  softly  humming 
preventing  her  from  noting  our  approach  until 
we  were  close  behind  her,  when  a  stumble  on  my 
part  attracted  her  attention.  She  sprang  to  her 
feet  with  a  cry  of  alarm,  and  then  stood  staring 
at  us,  in  her  face  a  mixture  of  fear  and  amazement 
that  was  evident  to  even  my  blurred  senses. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  she  demanded. 

I  tried  to  bow,  and  would  have  fallen  had  not 
Gayle  Langford's  grasp  again  saved  me. 

"  I  beg  that  you  be  not  alarmed,"  I  said. 
"We  are  —  " 

Then  I  paused,  for  a  great  question  had  pro- 
jected itself  into  my  poor  head.  Who  were  we? 
In  those  troublesome  times  of  bitterest  hate  'twas 


i46  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

most  important  who  you  were  —  or  claimed  to 
be.  I  glanced  at  my  companion.  Bareheaded 
and  with  her  copperish  hair  tumbled  wretchedly 
about  her  ears,  with  my  brilliant  coat  wrapped 
closely  about  her,  but  allowing  a  tiny  expanse  of 
white  skirt  to  peep  out  beneath,  she  stood  looking 
mutely  at  me,  and  I  could  see  that  she,  too,  had 
forgotten  to  prepare  for  such  a  query.  And  I 
realized  that  my  own  appearance  must  weigh 
heavily  against  us.  Minus  my  coat,  with  my 
head  bandaged,  and  wet  from  crown  to  toe,  I 
was  not  a  spectacle  to  be  welcomed  by  any 
lady. 

"  In  humanity's  scale,  fellow  sufferers,"  I 
replied. 

"  But  why  came  you  here,  and  in  such  a 
plight?  " 

"  I  crave  shelter  and  protection  for  the  lady. 
For  myself  I  only  ask  permission  to  lie  in  the 
shade  of  one  of  your  trees  and  rest  until  I  am 
stronger.  We  are  "  -  a  blindness  seized  me  — 
"  victims  "  -  I  felt  my  body  swaying  —  "of 
a  rabble  —  a  rabble  — 

I  was  conscious  that  the  ground  seemed  rising 
up  in  front  of  me,  and  I  felt  a  pair  of  arms  clasped 
about  me.  Then  came  a  blank. 

When  next  consciousness  returned  to  me  it 


WANDERERS  147 

was  as  though  my  senses  were  rushing  towards 
me  through  some  narrow  channel;  a  roaring 
was  in  my  ears,  growing  louder  and  louder,  until 
it  suddenly  calmed,  leaving  me  in  a  realm  of 
sweet  peace.  I  felt  a  soft  touch  on  my  forehead, 
changing  quickly  to  each  temple;  my  eyelids 
seemed  weighted,  but  I  forced  them  up  and 
then  found  myself  looking  at  a  vision  in  white, 
a  girl  of,  probably,  twenty,  with  a  complexion 
like  the  glint  of  old  wine,  and  with  raven  hair. 
A  candle  was  burning  on  the  table  behind  her, 
its  soft  light  framing  her  as  in  a  halo,  a  picture 
I  never  forgot.  I  was  lying  in  a  bed ;  the  comfort 
of  fresh,  clean  linen  was  all  about  me.  I  spoke  no 
word,  but  stared  up  into  her  face,  and  was  con- 
scious of  a  pleasure  in  the  fact  that  my  vision 
was  not  blurred.  She  looked  at  me  a  moment, 
a  slight  tinge  of  red  showing  in  her  cheeks;  then 
she  smiled,  and  the  room  became  brighter. 

"  Your  eyes  are  clear.    You  will  live,"  she  said. 

"  Nay.  Surely  must  I  have  already  passed 
away  —  else  how  could  I  be  here  in  heaven?  " 

I  saw  the  smile  leave  her  lips. 

"  Hush!  Tis  sacrilegious."  But  the  brilliance 
of  her  eyes  deepened. 

"  I  meant  no  mockery.  But  —  ?  "  I  paused 
and  let  my  gaze  wander  here  and  there,  over  the 


GAYLE   LANGFORD 

bed,  about  the  room,  and  finally  to  her.  She 
read  the  question  in  my  eyes. 

"  The  chore-boy  helped  us  carry  you  in  after 
you  fainted,  and  he  put  you  to  bed  while  we  pre- 
pared the  few  simple  remedies  possible.  You 
have  been  delirious  much  of  the  day." 

"And  did  I  babble?" 

She  smiled  again.  "  Yes  —  mostly  about  an 
eagle  and  some  little  girl  who  threw  stones  at 
you.  Boyhood  scenes,  probably." 

The  Eagle !    A  little  girl  who  threw  stones  at  me ! 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  an  incident  of  my  youth 
where  a  boy  died." 

"  I  thought  it  must  have  some  sad  history. 
Your  sister  cried  whenever  you  raved  about  it." 

I  looked  at  her  a  little  stupidly.     "  My  sister?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  do  you  not  remember  that  you 
came  together?  " 

Understanding  crept  slowly  into  my  mind. 
Gayle  Langford  had  claimed  me  as  her  brother, 
and  the  reason  was  plain.  'Twas  the  safest 
refuge  for  her  in  view  of  her  scant  attire  and  the 
evident  fact  that  we  had  spent  the  night  together. 

"Yes  —  yes  —  of  course.  My  brain  is  not 
quite  clear  yet,  and  —  I  —  forgot  for  a  moment." 

"  But  no  more  talking.  You  must  rest.  I  am 
going  now." 


WANDERERS  149 

She  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  I  will  surely  perish  from  curiosity  if  you  leave 
me  alone  now,"  I  said. 

She  smiled  and  the  room  grew  brighter  again. 

"  Your  sister  was  right,  I  see." 

Not  having  the  faintest  idea  what  my  sister 
had  said,  it  was  clearly  impossible  for  me  to  do 
aught  but  keep  silent.  She  added: 

"  She  said  that  so  long  as  you  held  consciousness 
nothing  could  daunt  you." 

Oho!  The  maid  had  been  complimenting  me! 
I  felt  my  pulse  quicken,  but  as  I  was  revelling  in 
the  glory  of  the  eyes  in  front  of  me,  I  could  not 
have  told  to  save  my  battered  head  whether  the 
glow  within  me  was  born  of  the  absent  one's 
compliments  or  the  present  one's  glances.  Fickle 
weakling,  say  you?  Well,  have  your  fling  and 
welcome,  but  let  me  but  plead  this,  that  we  of 
the  army  had  found  scant  time  in  many  weary 
months  to  accustom  ourselves  to  the  petticoat 
world. 

"  Sister  "  (I  almost  strangled  on  the  word) 
"  always  was  o'erproud  of  her  brother." 

The  ludicrousness  sent  me  into  a  violent  fit  of 
coughing  to  cover  my  desire  to  roar  with  laugh- 
ter. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  moving  over  to  the  table 


i5o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

and  making  a  fine  pretence  of  busying  herself 
with  the  candle.  "  It's  a  way  most  sisters  have." 

"  Do  they?  I  have  always  wished  I  had  a 
sister,"  I  replied,  with  all  of  the  brilliancy  of  an 
idiot. 

She  glanced  at  me  quickly,  but  before  she 
could  speak  I  was  floundering  in  an  effort  to 
extricate  myself  from  my  blunder. 

"  I  mean,"  I  stammered,  "  that  I've  always 
wished  I  could  be  near  my  sister.  You  see,  a 
soldier  is  very  much  alone  as  regards  family 
ties;" 

"  Yes,  my  brother  —       She  paused. 

"Your  brother  — well?" 

"  Is  a  soldier,  too." 

The  speech  bore  a  note  of  defiance,  and  her 
head  was  thrown  back  with  an  air  of  pride. 

"  Indeed?    Then  he  and  I  are  brothers." 

"  My  brother  wears  a  uniform." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  biting  suggestive- 
ness  of  the  fling,  and  I  felt  my  cheeks  burn. 

"  What  command? "  I  asked,  ignoring  her 
thrust. 

"  Wilmoth's  horse.  Perhaps  you  have  met 
them?  " 

"  Aye,  that  I  have  —  else  I  would  not  be 
here," 


WANDERERS  151 

"  I  suspicioned  something  of  the  kind,"  she 
replied,  and  the  sarcasm  of  her  tone  nettled  me. 

"Think  you  I  am  fleeing  from  them?  Why, 
they  saved  my  worthless  life!  " 

"  Ah?  " 

"  But  tell  me,  where  is  my  —  my  sister?  " 

"  I  left  her  asleep.    I  will  call  her  now." 

"No, — no,  don't!"  I  cried  as  she  turned 
towards  the  door  again.  "  May  I  ask  with  whom 
I  have  been  fencing  with  words?  We  have  not 
yet  been  presented,  you  know." 

"  My  name?  Certainly.  It  is  Mary  Wilmoth. 
And  yours?  " 

The  query  came  like  the  crack  of  a  whip. 
Dolt  that  I  was,  not  to  have  foreseen  it. 

"  Why,  my  sister  certainly  gave  you  that. 
Thank  you  for  telling  me  yours.  I  really  feel 
that  I  must  rest  now." 

But  she  was  not  to  be  tricked.  Her  eyes  were 
on  me  steadily. 

"  Perhaps  I  did  not  clearly  understand  the 
name  when  she  gave  it  to  me." 

I  looked  toward  the  door,  praying  that  Gayle 
Langford  might  step  into  the  room.  What  name 
had  she  given?  Was  I  a  Langford?  Was  she  a 
Lester?  Were  we  both  some  one  else?  I  had  no 
way  of  telling,  and  there  stood  the  girl  awaiting 


152  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

my  reply,  a  reply  that,  doubtless,  would  uncover 
the  deceit  that  had  been  undertaken  with  the 
best  intentions  possible,  and,  in  uncovering  it, 
would  plunge  us  deeper  than  ever  into  the  murk 
of  foul  suspicion. 

"  The  poor  girl  herself  was  about  done  up. 
My  name?  Ian  Lester." 

One  chance  was  as  likely  to  be  right  as  another, 
so  I  clung  to  my  own  name.  I  was  watching  her 
closely,  and  I  saw  her  lips  tighten. 

"Then  I  really  did  misunderstand  your  —  sis- 
ter." 

There  was  such  a  depth  of  meaning  to  that 
slight  pause,  such  a  sting  to  the  unuttered  accusa- 
tion that  I  groaned  aloud. 

"  Are  you  suffering?  "  There  was  no  warmth 
to  the  query. 

"  Yes  —  my  —  head  is  hurting  me."  I  closed 
my  eyes  to  avoid  hers. 

"  Possibly  it  is  your  conscience." 

I  opened  my  eyes  and  looked  again  into  her 
face,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  as  she  stood  there 
she  was  a  marble  statue  of  accusation.  I  could 
feel  the  scorn  of  her  eyes  piercing  me. 

"  Accept  my  surrender,"  I  said,  gloomily. 

"  Then  you  are  not  Ian  Lester?  " 

"  Yes  —  Captain  in  the  Continental  army." 


WANDERERS  153 

"  And  —  and  —  that  —  woman  ?  " 

"  That  lady  is  Mistress  Gayle  Langford,  of 
Philadelphia,  loyal  to  the  King." 

"  But  she  said  —  " 

"  And  so  would  you  under  like  circumstances 
to  avert  suspicion  where  guilt  did  not  exist,  for 
there  is  no  harsher  nor  more  unjust  judge  of 
woman  than  woman." 

I  could  see  her  eyes  soften  a  little  at  my  speech, 
and  once  she  parted  her  lips  to  speak,  but  did 
not.  She  walked  to  the  door,  hesitated,  and 
then  turned  to  me. 

"  I  will  send  my  mother  to  you.  I  have  already 
remained  too  long." 

She  passed  out  and  I  heard  her  footsteps 
descending  the  stairs.  The  pains  were  lacing  my 
head  again,  and  I  moistened  my  parched  lips 
with  my  tongue.  Then  of  a  sudden  I  flung  the 
covering  from  me,  dropped  my  feet  over  the 
edge,  raised  myself,  and  sat  down  on  the  side  of 
the  bed.  My  clothing  was  hung  across  a  chair 
near  by  and  I  rose  to  my  feet,  but  a  giddiness 
overcame  me  and  I  plunged  forward  to  my  knees 
on  the  floor.  The  fall  served  only  to  increase  my 
determination  to  conquer  my  weakness,  so  I 
crawled  to  the  chair  and,  clinging  to  it,  gained 
my  feet,  and  then  slowly  and  with  much  unsteadi- 


154  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

ness  I  donned  my  clothes,  even  to  the  coat,  which 
Gayle  Langford  doubtless  had  no  further  use  for 
now  that  she  was  again  with  those  of  her  sex. 
By  the  time  I  was  dressed  I  was  nigh  exhausted, 
but  managed  to  reach  the  open  window,  where  I 
clung  to  the  frame  and  sought  strength  of  the  soft 
breezes  of  the  night. 

What  was  I  about  to  do?  I  scarcely  knew. 
The  headstrong  impulses  that  so  often  controlled 
me  were  in  command  again.  I  was  stung  by  the 
position  in  which  I  found  myself.  I  had  ruined 
my  military  career  by  springing  to  the  defence  of 
a  woman  who  screamed ;  I  had  suffered  a  broken 
head  in  defending  this  same  woman's  name;  I 
had  endured  exposure  and  fatigue  and  risked 
death  in  caring  for  her  —  for  a  woman  who  hated 
me  for  being  a  rebel  against  her  King.  And 
now  another  woman  had  humbled  me  and  lashed 
me  with  suspicion.  As  I  leaned  against  the 
window-casing  I  dimly  remember  cursing  the 
entire  sex.  I  longed  to  be  astride  a  horse,  clothed 
in  the  uniform  of  American  liberty.  I  put  one 
trembling  hand  to  my  forehead  and  felt  of  the 
jagged  scar  beneath  my  forelock,  and  at  the  feel 
of  it  my  blood  leaped  again  and  my  brain  cleared. 
To  feel  the  quiver  of  horse-flesh  between  my 
knees!  To  hear  the  turmoil  of  battle!  To  strike 


WANDERERS  155 

again  in  vengeance!    Ah,  yes,  that  was  it!    The 
Eagle  and  her  bloody  deck  were  before  me! 

How  I  longed  for  the  brave  blue  and  buff,  for 
the  jangle  of  my  old  sabre!  Then  would  I  have 
been  a  man  again,  not  a  weakened,  purposeless 
dupe  in  the  garb  of  a  Tory  fop.  About  New  York 
I  knew  the  British  forces  were  massing;  General 
Howe  was  approaching  Sandy  Hook  when  I 
rode  away  from  the  army,  and  it  was  well  known 
among  Washington's  officers  that  Admiral  Lord 
Howe  was  sailing  from  England  with  a  fleet  and 
a  large  land  force,  expecting  to  assist  in  the  grand 
coup  that  was  to  capture  Long  Island,  annihilate 
Washington's  army,  and  end  the  war  triumphantly 
for  King  George.  There  was  but  one  path  for 
me  to  tread;  it  led  straight  back  to  General 
Washington,  and  the  easiest  way  for  me  to  make 
my  start  was  the  best  —  the  window.  I  was  an 
object  of  suspicion  in  the  household,  and  should 
I  go  down  the  stairs  unpleasant  scenes  would 
result,  with,  perhaps,  more  scorn  from  Gayle 
Langford,  for  now  that  she  was  rested  and  clothed 
once  more  I  doubted  not  that  she  would  forget 
all  but  the  fact  that  I  was  a  rebel.  I  threw  one 
leg  over  the  window-sill  and  was  calculating  on 
the  strength  of  the  vines  to  which  I  must  trust 
myself  in  my  descent,  when  an  exclamation 


156  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

behind  me  caused  me  to  turn.  I  had  tarried  too 
long,  for  in  the  doorway  stood  an  old  lady  with 
hair  like  snow,  and  at  her  side  was  Gayle  Langford. 

For  one  brief  instant  did  I  hesitate  in  choosing 
whether  to  clutch  the  vines  and  make  away  or 
to  remain.  I  chose  the  latter,  and,  scrambling 
to  my  feet,  made  my  best  bow. 

"  Truly  honored  am  I  by  this  call,"  I  said, 
stiffly. 

"  Which  seems  to  have  been  made  at  the  last 
tick  of  opportunity  if  we  were  to  see  you." 

Mrs.  Wilmoth  stepped  into  the  room  and  pointed 
to  the  window  as  she  spoke.  The  girl  said  nothing, 
nor  could  I  read  her  eyes,  for  she  stood  much  in 
the  shadow. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  was  leaving." 

"  Like  a  gentleman?  " 

The  contempt  of  her  tone  stung  me. 

"  I  heard  the  call  of  duty,"  I  said. 

"  Indeed!     And  its  message?  " 

"  Its  message  was  a  rebuke  that  I  should  longer 
linger  here  while  off  yonder  "  (my  arm  waved 
toward  the  coast)  "my  comrades  are  on  the  eve 
of  the  death-grapple.  My  place  now  is  at  the 
side  of  General  Washington." 

I  saw  her  eyes  soften  as  I  spoke,  and  at  the 
name  of  Washington  she  clapped  her  hands. 


WANDERERS  157 

"  But  why  the  window?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  was  foolish,  Madam,"  I  said. 
"  Physically  suffering,  I  also  was  much  dis- 
turbed in  mind  by  the  suspicions  directed  against 
me  and  —  and  —  " 

"  Mistress  Langford?  " 

With  a  quiet  smile  she  completed  the  sentence 
for  me. 

'*  Then  you  know  —  " 

"  The  whole  story,  Captain  Lester." 

Gayle  Langford  had  stepped  forward  into  the 
candle-light  and  spoken. 

"  I  have  acknowledged  my  falsehood,  told  on 
an  impulse  as  —  a  —  a  —  protection,  and  we  are 
now  known  as  we  are  —  you,  a  reb  -  "  (the  blood 
flamed  in  her  cheeks)  :'a  Continental  soldier, 
and  I  a  Loyalist  to  King  George." 

"  It  is  this  we  have  come  to  tell  you,  Captain. 
My  son  is  a  major  in  your  army.  You  are  wounded 
and  weak.  You  can  best  serve  your  country  by 
recovering  your  strength  and  not  by  driving  your- 
self to  the  grave  by  exhaustion.  We  will  leave 
you  now  and  you  had  best  return  to  bed.  Good 
night." 

With  a  graceful  curtsy  she  turned  towards  the 
door ;  as  I  bowed  to  her  I  caught  the  gaze  of 
Gayle  Langford,  and  long  after  I  had  again  crept 


158  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

between  the  sheets  I  tossed  about  uneasily, 
vainly  trying  to  assure  myself  as  to  what  I  had 
read  in  her  eyes.  Was  it  pity?  Was  it  more 
than  pity  ?  Was  it  —  ?  But  my  exhausted 
system  clamored  for  rest  and  I  fell  into  a  heavy 
slumber. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   MAID   AND   A   SONG 

THE  lazy  flapping  of  a  blind  against  the 
casing  of  the  window  seemed  beating  a 
tattoo  on  my  brain,  and  I  opened  my  eyes 
to  find,  much  to  my  astonishment,  that  the  sun 
was  high  in  the  sky.    From  the  yard  below  there 
came  a  peculiar  whirring  and  the  sound  of  a  girl's 
voice  singing  in  a  subdued  tone  a  ballad  popular 
with  the  Continental  army: 

"  My  lover  is  a  soldier  lad, 

King  George's  crown  he's  scorning. 
He  rides  and  fights  with  Washington 
In  Liberty's  bright  morning." 

"  Putnam!  " 

The  song  had  ended  and  the  singer  had  voiced 
the  call  that  caused  my  sleepy  eyes  to  open  wider, 
for,  in  truth,  was  the  name  one  to  thrill  a  Patriot 
soldier. 

'59 


i6o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Putnam!     Putnam,  I  say!  " 

Vexation  crept  into  the  tone  and  the  voice  was 
raised. 

"  Yassum." 

It  was  the  voice  of  a  darky  boy,  and  as  I 
raised  on  my  elbow  and  peeped  slyly  out  the 
window  I  saw  the  lazy  little  rascal  yawning  and 
stretching  himself  under  a  tree,  though  the  girl 
was  not  in  view. 

"  You  lump  of  laziness,  have  you  been  asleep 
so  early  in  the  day?  " 

"  No'm!  No'm!  "  He  was  now  on  his  feet, 
but  stood  scratching  his  woolly  head,  dully.  "  I 
done  sot  down  hyar  jes'  er  minute  ter  think 
erbout  —  erbout  —  " 

"  Never  mind!  If  you  don't  stay  awake,  some 
of  these  Tories  will  catch  you  sure." 

"  Yassum,  I'se  gwine  ter  stay  awake,  Miss 
Mary.  I  shorely  is." 

He  hurried  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
to  where  the  girl  was,  and  I  clambered  out 
of  bed,  and  though  my  head  throbbed 
somewhat,  I  was  happy  to  note  that  my 
strength  was  considerable.  I  had  just  slipped 
into  my  clothes  when  there  came  a  rap  on  my 
door. 

"Well!"  I  responded. 


A   MAID   AND   A   SONG        161 

"  Marse  Captain,  de  Missus  she  say  is  you 
awake  yet?  " 

I  laughed  as  I  recognized  Putnam's  voice. 

"I'm  not  sure,  Putnam.    Come  in  and  see." 

The  door  was  opened  and  a  negro  boy  of  about 
twelve  years  stood  before  me.  He  was  as  black 
as  the  heart  of  midnight,  but  his  eyes  were  bright 
and  his  broad  mouth  seemed  constantly  on  the 
verge  of  a  wide  grin.  He  was  bareheaded  and 
barefooted,  and  in  his  hands  he  carried  a  pitcher 
of  water. 

"  De  Missus  say  she  sen'  up  your  breakfas'  if 
you  all  is  awake." 

"  Give  me  the  water,  Putnam,  and  go  tell  your 
mistress  that  I'll  be  down  in  a  moment.  Under- 
stand? " 

"  Yassir." 

He  handed  me  the  pitcher  and  then  turned 
and  scampered  down  the  stairway.  The  cool 
water  was  a  delight;  I  removed  the  bandage 
from  my  head  and  splashed  in  the  bowl  like  a 
schoolboy,  and  then  I  found  myself  standing 
before  the  mirror  and  pluming  myself  with  all  of 
the  care  of  a  London  dandy.  True,  the  cut  of 
my  clothes  bespoke  the  Tory,  but  little  I  heeded 
that.  In  truth,  I  confess  I  was  pleased  at  their 
gorgeousness,  for  with  my  coat  on,  the  bandage 


i62  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

absent  from  my  head,  and  my  face  freshened  by 
the  long  sleep,  I  fancied  Mary  Wilmoth  would 
find  me  a  very  different  looking  personage  from 
the  weary,  suffering,  fainting  wretch  who  had 
staggered  half-clothed  into  her  presence  twenty- 
four  hours  before,  though  my  face  yet  lacked  the 
flush  of  health.  Going  to  the  window  I  peeped 
cautiously  out,  but  no  one  was  in  sight.  The 
whirring  continued,  but  no  song  arose.  I  turned 
to  the  door  and  passed  out  into  the  hallway  to 
the  stairs.  I  soon  found  that  my  legs  were  yet 
trembly  and  unsteady,  but  I  descended  the  stairs 
with  a  tolerably  firm  tread,  and  as  I  reached  the 
hallway  below  Mrs.  Wilmoth  stepped  out  from 
the  parlor  and  extended  her  hand  in  greeting. 

"  We  are  much  pleased  that  you  are  able  to 
be  out  of  your  bed,  Captain,"  she  said. 

"  Dear  Madam,  my  tongue  is  halting  twixt  a 
self-berating  of  my  indolence  that  kept  me  so 
late  abed,  and  thanks  for  your  graciousness  in 
permitting  me  such  indulgence." 

She  smiled. 

"  It  is  in  such  indomitable  wills  that  the  hope 
of  liberty  lies." 

And  then  I  blushed  like  a  schoolboy  at  her 
praise,  and  she  led  the  way  into  the  parlor,  where 
Gayle  Langford  stood  as  though  awaiting  me. 


A  MAID   AND  A  SONG        163 

She  was  dressed  in  a  very  plain  gown,  borrowed 
from  Mary  Wilmoth,  but  the  sombre  garb  of  a 
nun  could  not  diminish  the  imperious  dignity 
that  distinguished  her  and  made  glorious  a  beauty 
that  in  a  careful  analysis  showed  defects. 

"  Your  bright  eyes  are  answers  to  the  hope  I 
was  about  to  express  that  your  sleep  had  been 
refreshing,"  I  said,  bowing  to  her. 

"  And  your  pretty  speech  is  proof  that  pain 
and  fatigue  have  not  clogged  your  tongue,"  she 
replied  with  a  pretty  curtsy,  whereat  we  all  three 
laughed  and  fell  to  an  exchange  of  commonplaces 
which  was  only  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Wilmoth 
urging  me  to  step  into  the  dining-room  for  my 
breakfast. 

In  truth,  I  ought  not  to  say  she  urged  me,  for 
my  appetite  was  clamoring  for  a  cup  of  the  coffee 
whose  fragrance  had  found  its  way  to  my  nostrils. 
And  as  I  sat  at  table  Gayle  Langford  told  me  of 
her  determination  to  return  to  Philadelphia, 
making  the  start  the  next  morning.  'Twas  such 
news  as  I  might  have  expected,  but  I  confess  that 
I  did  not.  The  events  of  the  last  thirty-six  hours 
seemed  to  have  been  weeks  in  transpiring ;  during 
those  hours  of  danger,  of  distress  and  exposure, 
we  had  been  so  much  in  each  other's  company, 
aye,  so  much  to  each  other,  that  in  an  unconscious 


i64  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

way  I  had  come  to  regard  myself  as  her  guardian, 
her  protector,  and  in  the  beauty  of  this  mid- 
summer morning,  with  the  majesty  and  peace  of 
Valley  Forge  about  us,  I  had  forgotten  for  the 
moment  that  she  was  the  proudest  Loyalist 
maid  in  all  the  Colonies,  the  daughter  of  Peter 
Langford,  whose  hatred  of  the  rebels  to  his  King 
was  such  that  he  died  when  liberty's  message 
had  sounded,  and  that  I  was  in  her  eyes  a  traitor, 
a  man  whose  sword  was  drawn  in  opposition  to 
that  which  she  held  most  dear.  But  when  the 
first  shock  of  a  surprise  I  should  not  have  felt 
had  passed  I  remembered  it  all  and  gulped  a  cup 
of  Mrs.  Wilmoth's  steaming  coffee  in  an  effort 
to  compose  myself,  for  I  had  found  our  brief 
companionship  most  pleasant,  fraught  with  hard- 
ships and  vexations  though  it  had  been. 

In  her  return  to  Philadelphia  I  foresaw  the 
dividing  of  our  pathways,  with  slight  chance  that 
they  would  ever  merge  again.  The  guide-post 
pointed  her  to  wealth,  ease,  the  splendor  of 
fashion's  world;  destiny  beckoned  me  with 
bloody  ringer  to  the  horror  of  battle-fields,  the 
dreariness  of  lonely  bivouacs  —  perhaps  the  un- 
known grave  of  a  soldier.  How  human  impulses 
shift  and  change,  like  the  sands  on  the  beach! 
Last  night  I  was  for  clambering  out  of  a  window 


A  MAID   AND  A  SONG       165 

and  putting  forth  to  escape  her,  and  now,  like  a 
dolt,  I  sat  scalding  my  throat  because  she  had 
said  she  was  preparing  to  leave  me. 

"  Why  to-morrow?  Are  you  not  welcome 
here?  "  I  asked,  at  length. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  mine  and  the  tears  were 
on  the  lashes  as  she  asked: 

"  Can  you  have  forgotten  the  trust  Erasmus 
guards  —  and  my  mother?  " 

"No, — your  duty  is  there,"  I  said  slowly. 
"  Who  accompanies  you?  " 

"  Putnam  is  to  drive  —  we  take  the  Wilmoth 
chaise." 

I  set  my  cup  down  and  looked  hard  at  her. 

"  You  will  journey  with  no  escort  save  that 
negro  boy,  along  —  " 

"  I  am  sure  there  will  be  no  danger." 

"  Along  roads  infested  with  highwaymen?  " 

"  I  have  neither  gold  nor  jewels  to  tempt 
them,"  she  replied  smiling. 

"But  —  but  these  devils  prize  —  beauty  — 
equally  with  jewels." 

A  wave  of  red  crept -slowly  up  from  her  throat, 
and  I  turned  my  eyes  away  to  relieve  her  em- 
barrassment. 

"  Nevertheless,  Captain,  I  must  take  the  risk. 
We  go  to-morrow." 


i66  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

I  glanced  again  at  her,  and  saw  the  old  flash 
in  her  eyes.  What  a  soldier  she  would  have  been 
had  she  been  a  man!  But  I  had  decided  a  point. 

"  Then  if  there  is  a  horse  about  this  place  I 
ride  with  you." 

I  would  have  sworn  that  sudden  catch  of  her 
breath  was  for  pleasure,  but  when  she  spoke  it 
was  to  voice  a  remonstrance. 

"  No,  no,  it  must  not  be." 

"  Will  my  company  be  so  distasteful,  then?  " 

'Twas  impertinence,  I  know,  but  for  some 
reason  I  was  nettled  at  her  manner  of  speech, 
and  my  nasty  temper  bested  me. 

"  I  have  not  detected  myself  considering  that 
question,"  she  replied,  haughtily. 

My  word  for  it,  'twas  a  waspish  sting  her  words 
gave  me,  and  for  a  moment  I  was  of  a  mind  to 
wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  mess  and  let  her  fare 
as  fate  should  will,  but  after  I  had  taken  another 
swallow  of  coffee  and  the  sting  had  eased  a  bit 
I  saw  my  error. 

"  Your  pardon,  Mistress  Langford.  Your  lash 
is  just,  and  - 

"  Oh,  but  it  was  petulant  of  me,"  she  said, 
warming  suddenly.  "  You  have  done  so  much 
for  me,  Captain,  and  my  wicked  tongue  has  ill 
repaid  you." 


A  MAID  AND  A  SONG        167 

"  Nay!  Nay!  'Twas  right  well  deserved,  say 
I.  But  to  your  journey ;  I  shall  ride  by  your  side." 
And  e'en  as  I  spoke  I  was  swearing  to  myself  that 
such  another  capricious  maid  did  not  live  in  all 
the  Colonies. 

"  But  your  head  is  —  " 

"  Of  scant  use  for  brains,  but  amply  able  to 
stop  stools." 

"Ah!"  She  was  leaning  across  the  table 
towards  me.  "  A  stool?  You  forget  you  have 
not  told  me  the  story  of  your  bandage.  Not  a 
tavern  brawl?  " 

Here  was  a  pretty  situation.  I  had  no  mind 
to  tell  the  girl  that  I  was  fighting  in  a  public 
tavern  because  her  name  had  been  mentioned  in 
a  way  not  to  my  liking,  and  I  was  not  inclined 
to  lie  to  her  about  it. 

"  Mistress  Langford,  I  assure  you  my  hurt  was 
received  in  an  affair  in  no  wise  discreditable  to 
myself,  but  for  reasons  of  my  own  I  ask  to  be 
excused  from  relating  the  incident." 

"  Oh,  certainly."  Her  tone  was  indiffer- 
ent. 

I  tried  to  think  of  something  that  would  ease 
the  conversation  into  channels  less  thickly  strewn 
with  rocks,  but  nothing  came  to  my  tongue,  and 
we  both  sat  there  stiffly  silent  until  I  had  finished 


i68  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

eating.  Mrs.  Wilmoth  had  excused  herself  when 
I  first  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

"  Shall  we  walk  out  into  the  yard?  "  I  asked, 
at  last.  "  I  think  I  heard  Mistress  Mary  out 
there,  and  I  have  not  yet  paid  my  respects  to 
her." 

"  I  think  I  prefer  the  cool  of  the  parlor." 

In  the  hallway  she  left  me,  and  a  moment  later 
I  heard  her  voice  in  the  parlor  raised  in  careless 
lilts  of  song.  I  confess  I  was  vexed  that  she  had 
so  coolly  declined  to  accompany  me,  but  I  marched 
down  the  hallway  and  out  into  the  yard  in  my  most 
careless  manner,  and  with  never  a  glance  to  the 
rear.  The  morning  was  well  advanced,  and 
already  the  rays  of  heat  could  be  seen  dancing 
between  the  house  and  the  woodlands  beyond  the 
meadow,  but  for  the  first  time  I  got  a  good  view 
of  Valley  Forge,  and  paused  a  moment  in  the 
doorway  to  enjoy  the  scene.  Months  later,  when 
I  viewed  those  rugged  hills  and  tortuous  gorges 
under  vastly  different  conditions,  the  memory 
of  that  blazing  July  morning  oft  came  to 
mock  me  in  the  bitterest  winter  the  valley  ever 
knew. 

I  strolled  around  the  house  to  where  I  heard 
again  the  peculiar  whirr  and  the  low-sung  words 
of  a  song. 


A  MAID   AND   A   SONG        169 

"  Maids'  hearts  must  break  for  Freedom's  sake, 

Of  this  I  give  you  warning, 
But  the  brave  and  true  have  work  to  do 
In  Liberty's  bright  morning." 

Mary  Witmoth  was  so  busy  at  her  spinning- 
wheel  that  I  was  close  beside  her  before  she 
looked  up  with  a  start. 

"La,  how  you  startled  me,  Mister  —  Captain 
Lester." 

The  words  were  accompanied  by  a  winsome 
smile  that  showed  me  two  rows  of  snow-white 
teeth  and  a  most  fetching  dimple.  Her  head 
was  bare  and  the  winds  had  tossed  and  rumpled 
her  raven  hair  recklessly.  I  looked  into  the 
sparkling  eyes  and  felt  my  pulse  bound.  Aye, 
there  was  beauty  without  flaw. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  see  you  able  to  be  about 
this  morning,"  she  said,  and  extended  her  hand 
in  greeting. 

"  When  the  lark  trilled  I  deafened  my  ears 
with  slumber,  but  when  Juno  sang  I  spurned 
Morpheus,"  I  said,  and  lifted  her  fingers  to  my  lips. 

Heigho!  'Twas  wondrous  bold,  the  speech  and 
the  salute  together,  but  I  had  not  been  of  warm 
flesh  and  red  blood  could  I  have  resisted.  And 
while  I  was  noting  the  glow  in  her  cheeks  deepen 
I  heard  a  voice  behind  me. 


iyo  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

"  Oh, —  Captain  Lester,  I  brought  you  a  hat." 

I  turned  and  beheld  Gayle  Langford,  who 
stood  at  the  corner  of  the  house  holding  a  hat 
towards  me,  a  smile  on  her  lips.  I  did  not  realize 
that  I  was  still  clinging  to  Mary  Wilmoth's  hand 
until  that  young  lady  jerked  it  from  my  grasp, 
and  as  she  did  so  I  saw  a  mocking  light  danc- 
ing in  Gayle's  eyes,  the  playground  for  her 
emotions. 

"  It  belongs  to  Mrs.  Wilmoth's  son,  but  she 
kindly  suggested  that  I  bring  it  to  you  lest  the 
hot  sun  cause  your  injured  head  trouble." 

"  I  had  forgotten  that  I  was  bareheaded,"  I 
answered,  taking  the  hat,  and  then  my  face  must 
have  dyed  red,  for  at  the  unfortunate  speech  the 
girl  gave  vent  to  a  peal  of  laughter.  I  jammed  the 
hat  on  my  head  savagely.  "  I  mean  —  that  - 
I  mean  the  shade  here  - 

"  And  the  breeze  from  the  spinning-wheel  was 
so  refreshing,"  she  interrupted,  and  the  mockery 
still  danced  in  her  eyes. 

"  At  least  the  song  was,"  I  said,  stiffly.  "  A 
Continental  who  felt  the  throb  of  an  aching 
head  while  Patriot  lips  were  singing  '  Liberty's 
Morning  '  would  of  a  certainty  be  a  weakling." 

I  saw  the  mockery  die  out  of  her  eyes,  and  her 
chin  rose  just  a  trifle  as  she  replied : 


A  MAID   AND   A  SONG        171 

"  Happy  Continentals!  The  blaze  of  the  sun 
is  tempered  by  traitorous  songs,  and  — 

"  No,  not  that!  "  cried  Mary  Wilmoth.  "  I 
like  not  the  word  '  traitor,'  Mistress  Langford. 
'Tis  harsh!" 

She  had  turned  to  her  spinning  and  was  softly 
pedalling  the  wheel  until  the  other's  words  had 
brought  her  to  her  feet.  Like  a  flash  Gayle 
Langford's  hands  were  outstretched  towards  the 
Patriot  maid,  and  I  saw  the  ice  in  her  eyes 
melting. 

"  Forgive  me,  I  beg,"  she  said.  "  'Twas  un- 
kind of  me  —  and  I  your  debtor  for  so  much. 
Captain  Lester  lashed  my  prejudices,  and  they 
cried  out." 

"  A  truce  twixt  King  George  and  the  Colonists ! " 
cried  Mary,  clasping  Gayle's  hands.  Then,  as  is 
ever  the  way  with  women,  their  lips  met.  The 
little  Tory  laughed  gaily,  and  then  turned  and 
ran  back  to  the  house,  leaving  me  standing  there 
staring  after  her  until  the  whirr  of  the  spinning- 
wheel  sounded,  and  I  turned  to  see  Mary  Wilmoth 
with  her  foot  on  the  pedal,  busy  at  work  in  silence. 

"  'Twas  the  fault  of  my  unruly  tongue,"  I 
said,  stepping  to  her  side.  "  May  I  not  be  for- 
given? "  I  swept  my  hat  from  my  head  as  I 
spoke. 


172 

"  You  must  keep  your  hat  on,  for  you  were 
not  to  blame,  Captain.  She  was  laughing  be- 
cause — "  She  paused,  and  her  cheeks  burned 
a  deeper  red.  "  Not  all  of  King  George's  Loyalists 
are  in  the  field,"  she  added,  hastily. 

I  understood  her  confusion  perfectly.  It  was 
as  clear  to  her  as  to  me  that  had  I  not  been  kissing 
her  fingers  so  enthusiastically  just  as  Gayle  Lang- 
ford  appeared  the  tiff  would  not  have  occurred. 

"  Nor  is  all  of  the  Continental  soldiers'  inspira- 
tion in  the  flag  we  carry!  " 

As  I  spoke  she  bent  lower  over  the  wheel,  but 
my  bold  eyes  noted  the  red  still  dyeing  her  cheeks. 
Her  deft  hands  faltered  an  instant,  and  then  there 
was  a  snarl  of  flax  that  stopped  the  wheel. 

"  Let  me  help  you." 

Unheeding  her  half-hearted  protests,  I  began 
clawing  at  the  tangle,  and  as  I  now  recall  the 
incident  I  must  have  made  a  bad  snarl  hopeless, 
for,  as  I  worked,  the  glowing  cheek  of  the  girl 
came  close  to  me,  and,  though  I  nervously  pulled 
and  hauled  at  the  flax,  my  eyes  were  on  the 
tempting  beauty  before  me.  Then  our  hands 
met  between  the  spokes  of  the  wheel  and  I  felt 
my  pulse  suddenly  begin  pounding  furiously. 
The  contact  was  for  only  an  instant,  but  it  was 
sufficient  to  send  the  blood  rushing  to  my  head, 


A  MAID   AND   A  SONG        173 

with  the  result  that  a  network  of  pains  raced 
from  temple  to  temple  and  the  trees  began  to 
dance.  I  took  a  step,  but  the  ground  was  rising, 
and  I  would  have  gone  down  ingloriously  had 
not  Mary  Wilmoth  glanced  about  and  noted  my 
tottering  step.  With  a  cry  she  clutched  me  by 
the  arm.  Her  grasp  steadied  me  and  I  stood 
erect. 

"  Let  me  lie  under  the  tree  a  moment  and  it 
will  pass,"  I  said,  and  staggered  to  the  tree,  and 
her  arms  supported  me  as  I  sank  down  at  full 
length  in  its  shade. 

"  You  must  have  a  cold  application,"  she  said, 
and  I  saw  her  running  towards  the  well.  Down 
came  the  sweep,  and  in  a  moment  she  came 
flying  back  with  a  gourd  of  cool  water. 

I  lay  very  quiet  while  she  made  a  bandage  of 
my  kerchief  and  cooled  it  until  it  eased  the 
throbbing  agony.  Once  I  opened  my  eyes,  but 
closed  them  instanter,  for  I  had  looked  full  into 
her  face  and  had  drunk  in  her  faultless  beauty. 

"Putnam!     Putnam!" 

I  looked  around  and  saw  the  little  negro  stand- 
ing close  to  the  well,  looking  at  us  and  yawn- 
ing. 

"  Yassum,  I'm  comin',"  he  responded,  and 
came  lazily  forward. 


174  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Do  you  know  where  mother  and  —  the 
other  lady  are?  " 

The  darky  scratched  his  head.  "  Miss  Mary," 
he  said,  with  great  deliberation,  "  I'se  mos' 
suah  I  done  see  'em  in  de  ga'den  jus'  now.  Dey 
was  two  ladies  dar,  an'  I  reckon  as  how  dey  was 
dem,  Miss  Mary.  I  go  right  dis  minit  an'  see  fo' 
suhten,  an'  den  I  hurry  back  an'  - 

"  Never  mind.  Captain  Lester  is  ill  and  you 
must  help  me  get  him  to  his  room." 

Supported  by  the  two  I  was  led  tottering  into 
the  house  and  up  to  my  room,  where  I  sprawled 
on  the  bed  and  mentally  cursed  the  fate  that 
made  me  a  prey  to  such  a  weakness. 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said,  as  the  girl  wet  the 
bandage  again.  "  A  rest  will  set  me  right." 

I  kept  my  eyes  closed,  but  I  heard  Putnam 
yawning,  and  with  my  promise  to  call  her  should 
I  want  anything,  the  girl  withdrew.  In  truth,  I 
was  most  heartily  ashamed  of  myself.  A  velvety 
cheek,  a  liquid  eye,  a  warm  hand,  and  I  had  gone 
all  a-quiver  like  a  schoolboy!  What  a  queer 
thing  was  love  —  and  what  a  devilish  thing,  if 
my  splitting  head  counted  for  aught.  True,  my 
months  of  war  had  not  made  of  me  a  connoisseur 
of  women,  but,  by  the  sword  of  Washington,  if 
ever  maid  was  lovable,  Mary  Wilmoth  was! 


A  MAID  AND   A  SONG        175 

And  then,  vain  prig,  I  pictured  myself  as  I  should 
stand  before  her  —  some  uncertain  day  —  in 
the  brave  buff  and  blue  of  the  Continentals,  and 
have  her  kiss  my  sword  and  send  me  a-riding 
with  Washington  with  her  dainty  kerchief  flutter- 
ing encouragement  as  I  flashed  my  sabre  in 
salute.  I  had  fought  passing  well  before,  but 
now!  Ah,  now! 

I  was  aroused  from  my  thoughts  by  voices  in 
the  yard  below,  and  then  came  the  unmistakable 
clank  of  sabres,  the  stamping  and  whinnying  of 
horses,  and  I  slipped  from  the  bed  and  knelt  at 
the  window,  my  training  having  made  me  most 
cautious.  What  I  saw  almost  wrung  a  cry  of 
delight  from  my  lips.  Below  me  was  a  squad  of 
Continental  soldiers,  four  of  them,  standing  at 
their  horses'  heads,  and  the  leader,  wearing  the 
uniform  of  a  major,  was  clasping  Mrs.  Wilmoth 
in  his  arms,  wiiile  she  cried  with  delight  and 
patted  his  shoulder  lovingly.  It  was  all  as  clear 
as  sunlight  that  Major  Wilmoth  had  ridden  out 
from  Philadelphia  to  visit  his  home. 

I  lay  back  on  the  bed  and  listened  to  the  ex- 
cited hum  below  stairs,  and  envied  the  lucky 
soldier  who  had  a  home  and  mother  to  visit.  But 
it's  a  dark  road  a  man's  thoughts  travel  when  he 
starts  at  this  point,  and  I  was  only  aroused  from 


176  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

my  communings  by  a  heavy  tread  on  the  stairs 
and  the  gentle  voice  of  a  woman,  occasionally 
interrupted  by  the  heavier  tones  of  a  man,  and 
then  Mrs.  Wilmoth  stepped  into  the  room,  fol- 
lowed closely  by  a  man  I  knew  to  be  her  son 
before  she  said: 

"  My  son,  Major  Wilmoth,  Captain  Lester." 

I  was  struggling  to  my  feet,  when  his  kindly 
voice  stopped  me. 

"  Tut!  Tut!  Captain,  lie  still.  A  feather  bed 
is  a  luxury  no  soldier  can  afford  to  rise  from  until 
necessity  calls." 

He  laughed  as  he  spoke,  and  as  I  swept  him 
with  a  glance  I  knew  I  should  like  Major  Wilmoth. 
He  was  a  handsome  fellow,  thirty-two,  tall, 
spare,  and  straight,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  that  were 
keen  and  kindly. 

"  'Tis  delicious,  sir,"  I  replied,  "  but  I  fear 
I  will  be  spoiled  for  a  pillow  of  boots  and  a  bed 
of  grass." 

"  But  this  head  of  yours,  tell  me  of  it.  I  have 
some  skill  in  doctoring." 

He  came  to  me  and  took  my  wrist  in  his  hand, 
but  as  he  counted  the  beats  I  saw  his  eyes  slowly 
travelling  over  my  attire,  and  a  frown  wrinkled 
his  brow. 

"  I  am  not  in  satins  and  laces  from  choice, 


A  MAID   AND   A  SONG        177 

Major,  as  I  can  explain.  As  for  my  head,  it  is 
the  worse  for  having  stopped  a  stool  flung  by  a 
sturdy  arm." 

"  A  brawl,  Captain?  " 

His  voice  was  low  and  even,  and  I  felt  his  eyes 
searching  me. 

"  I  pledge  you  it  was  naught  for  which  I  need 
feel  shame.  But  had  it  not  been  for  a  squad  of 
your  men,  sir,  it  would  have  cost  my  life." 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment  without  speak- 
ing. Then  a  light  seemed  to  be  dawning  in  his 
mind. 

"  Was  it  at  the  Golden  Lion?  "   he  asked. 

I  nodded,  and  he  suddenly  seized  my  hand  in 
both  of  his. 

"  Egad,  Captain,  I  know  the  story  now.  It 
was  because  of  a  girl,  and  unarmed  you  tried  to 
clean  out  a  room  full." 

I  began  signalling  him  desperately,  for  Gayle 
Langford  had  ascended  the  stairs  unnoticed  and 
now  stood  in  the  doorway  at  his  back.  But  he 
misconstrued  my  efforts. 

"  Tut!  Tut!  I  know  the  whole  brave  story.  My 
sergeant  told  me  how  you  faced  the  cutthroats 
until  the  stool  put  you  down.  'Twas  a  brave 
deed,  and  all  for  a  bright  eye  and  pretty  face,  eh, 
Captain?  " 


178  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

11  Oh,  you  do  not  understand  at  all!  "  I  fairly 
groaned,  my  eyes  on  Gayle  Langford. 

Wilmoth  laughed  in  his  cheery  way.  "  Don't 
understand?  Fie!  Think  you  I  have  no  weak- 
ness for  the  wenches?  But  I  came  to  doctor 
Caesar,  not  to  praise  him.  That  broken  head 
must  torture  you." 

He  had  caught  my  half -suppressed  groan,  born 
of  an  agony  of  spirit  rather  than  of  body,  and 
promptly  interpreted  it  wrongly. 

"  I  think  he  needs  a  physician's  attentions," 
spoke  up  Gayle  Langford,  coming  forward. 

I  tried  to  catch  her  eye  to  read  there  what 
interpretation  she  had  put  on  Wilmoth's  words. 

"  Well,  I  doctored  before  I  soldiered,  so  I  may 
be  able  to  help  him."  He  was  fingering  about 
my  skull  with  a  touch  so  deft  that  it  satisfied  me 
that  he  knew  his  profession. 

"  I  feared  a  skull  fracture,  but  happily  it 
proves  not  so,"  he  said  at  length.  "  Your  injuries 
are  no  worse  than  bruises,  and  a  day  or  two  of 
quiet  in  bed  with  some  treatment  will  put  you  on 
your  feet  again,  as  good  a  target  as  ever  a  redcoat 
shot  at." 

I  glanced  at  the  girl,  but  in  her  eyes  I  read 
nothing  but  hauteur  and  indifference.  I  turned 
to  Wilmoth. 


A  MAID   AND  A   SONG        179 

"  I  ride  to-morrow  morning,  Major." 

He  stared  at  me.    "  Ride  —  where?    Why?  " 

I  sought  the  Tory  maid's  eyes  again,  but  she 
had  crossed  to  the  window.  However,  I  would 
have  sworn  I  saw  a  faint  tinge  of  color  creeping 
up  into  her  cheeks. 

"  To  Philadelphia  as  escort  for  Mistress  Lang- 
ford,"  I  responded.  "  She  goes  in  the  morning 
with  none  but  Putnam." 

"  Such  a  sacrifice  is  quite  unnecessary,  Captain. 
Putnam  and  I  shall  not  be  molested." 

The  girl  had  turned  towards  me  and  she  spoke 
carelessly. 

"  No,  you  will  stay  on  the  feathers,"  replied 
Wilmoth.  "  I  return  to  Philadelphia  to-morrow, 
and  will  gladly  escort  Mistress  Langford." 

For  an  instant  I  was  on  the  point  of  rebellion, 
but  the  smile  the  girl  gave  him  and  the  memory 
of  a  Patriot  maid  with  the  glow  of  wine  in  her 
cheeks  checked  my  speech.  It  would  be  very 
pleasant  to  play  invalid  at  Valley  Forge  a  few 
days ;  of  that  I  was  certain. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  I  said  at  last. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   PARTING   OF   THE   WAYS 

MAJOR  WILMOTH  proved  an  able  man  in 
the  concoction  of  liniments  and  applica- 
tions from  the  herbs  of  the  farm,  and 
before  night  had  fallen  I  felt  my  head  to  be 
clearer  than  it  had  been  since  it  stopped  the  stool, 
but  it  was  Mary  Wilmoth  who  bandaged  my  head 
and  kept  the  cloths  wet  with  the  soothing  lini- 
ment. In  truth,  I  may  as  well  confess,  too,  that 
I  required  a  prodigious  lot  of  attention,  for  the 
bandage  just  would  not  remain  in  place  —  or  is 
it  better  I  should  admit  I  pulled  the  rags  awry 
purposely?  Mayhap  'twas  a  bit  of  fever  in  my 
blood  that  caused  me  to  do  this,  but  this  I  know, 
'twas  most  delicious  to  have  Mary  Wilmoth's 
soft  fingers  arranging  the  bandage,  and  to  hear 
her  gentle  voice  expressing  sympathy  when  I 
moaned.  Ah,  me!  As  I  look  back  at  it  now 
through  the  smoke  of  my  pipe  I  cannot  find  it  in 

180 


PARTING  OF   THE   WAYS      181 

my  heart  to  chide  myself  for  affecting  a  suffering 
I  did  not  feel.  Her  touch,  her  voice  —  but  you 
cannot  feel  and  hear  as  I  did  then. 

"  How  long  since  you  saw  your  brother  last?  " 
I  asked  her. 

"  Six  months,"  she  replied.  "  He  has  been 
in  Virginia  until  recently,  when  he  was  detailed 
for  duty  in  the  capital,  and  to-morrow  he  leaves 
us  again."  There  was  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  the  lot  of  a  soldier." 

'  Yes,  yes,  duty!  Always  it  is  duty!  There 
is  no  time  for  aught  else!  " 

"  Nay,  not  even  for  —  for  love.  It  must  flash 
into  the  soldier's  life  like  a  meteor  and  catch  step 
with  his  heart-throbs,  else  Love  falls  by  the  way 
and  he  marches  alone  with  Duty." 

She  was  deftly  arranging  the  bandages,  and  as 
I  spoke  I  looked  full  into  her  eyes,  and  then  my 
hand  suddenly  clasped  hers.  "  Alone  with  Duty," 
I  repeated  tremulously. 

"  Captain  —  you  —  oh,  the  awfulness  of  war!  " 
She  turned  her  face  towards  the  window,  but  her 
hand  rested  in  mine.  "  Duty  —  always  duty!  " 
she  exclaimed,  as  though  repeating  to  herself. 

There  was  a  heavy  step  on  the  stairs,  and  she 
snatched  her  hand  away  just  as  her  brother's 
head  appeared  above  the  landing. 


182 

"  How  fares  our  patient,  sister?  "   he  called. 

"  Much  better,  I  am  sure,"  I  answered  for  her, 
while  the  girl  fumbled  with  the  bandages. 

"  Good!  Let's  try  that  pulse.  Um-m-m!  " 
He  glanced  sharply  at  me  as  he  counted  the 
beats.  "  Pulse  entirely  too  rapid.  Strange. 
Probably  weakness  and  disquietude.  Saturate 
that  bandage  well  this  time,  Mary,  and  we'll  try 
letting  him  rest  and  sleep." 

I  tried  to  protest,  but  he  silenced  me  by  assuring 
me  that  head  injuries  required  perfect  quiet  and 
rest,  though  the  patient  was  always  clamorous 
for  company  and  excitement. 

"  You'll  get  all  you  want  of  both  before  King 
George  squeals.  Better  lie  still  and  rest  while 
you  can.  Dream  of  Washington  if  you  wish  to  — 
for  oft  you  will  ride  with  him  and  dream  of  this 
peace  and  rest." 

Then  they  left  me,  Wilmoth's  arm  about  his 
sister,  but  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  she  turned, 
and  the  glance  she  gave  me,  brief  though  it  was, 
gave  me  pleasant  thoughts  for  company,  and  soon 
I  fell  asleep.  But  they  were  not  pleasant  dreams 
that  came  to  my  pillow.  I  was  riding  into  battle, 
when  my  horse  was  shot  from  under  me  and  I 
found  myself  prostrate  with  a  multitude  of  red- 
coats confronting  me,  each  with  levelled  musket. 


PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS      183 

I  closed  my  eyes  and  awaited  the  shock  of  bullets, 
but  they  came  not,  and  I  opened  my  eyes.  Be- 
tween the  British  and  me  stood  a  woman,  her 
arms  outstretched.  (Such  is  the  power  of  dreams.) 
Filled  with  wonder  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  as 
the  British  wheeled  and  marched  away  the  woman 
turned  her  face  towards  me.  It  was  Gayle 
Langford. 

I  gasped  and  awakened  to  find  the  sun  fast 
setting,  but  its  last  rays  falling  full  on  my  face. 
I  was  wet  with  perspiration,  and  small  wonder 
was  it  my  dreams  had  been  distorted. 

'Twas  surprising  the  improvement  I  noted  in 
my  condition  when  I  went  down-stairs-  the  next 
morning.  The  dizziness  had  gone  and  my  keen 
appetite  was  evidence  that  -  my  old  strength 
would  soon  return.  A  blithe  enough  morn  it 
was,  but  there  was  little  of  song  and  cheer  in  the 
Wilmoth  home,  for  scarcely  had  the  breakfast- 
table  been  cleared  than  Wilmoth 's  men  appeared 
with  the  horses  in  the  road  before  the  house.  I 
stood  on  the  little  veranda  while  the  aged  mother 
and  the  sister  clung  to  son  and  brother,  weeping, 
for  now  that  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
had  been  signed  it  meant  renewed  vigor  in  the 
war,  and  the  soldier  they  were  bidding  adieu  was 
apt  to  see  stern  hours  ere  he  came  riding  home 


i84  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

again;  indeed,  if  he  ever  came.  But,  God's 
mercy!  Little  we  dreamed  how  soon  he  would 
be  in  that  house  once  more,  nor  that  his  home- 
coming would  be  more  grief-laden  than  this 
departure. 

Putnam  drove  out  of  the  lane  with  the  chaise 
and  awaited  Gayle  Langford.  Her  farewells  to 
mother  and  daughter  were  scarcely  heard  by 
them,  but  when  she  turned  to  me  a  sudden 
realization  shot  to  my  brain  that  she  was  about 
to  pass  out  of  my  life,  and  it  brought  a  curious 
saddening  pang. 

"  Captain  Lester,  'tis  the  parting  of  our  ways, 
I  presume,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"  It  seems  so,"  I  replied.  "  May  your  future 
be  less  stormy  than  that  fragment  of  your  life 
into  which  I  have  entered." 

"  But  at  my  home  —  if  I  have  a  home  left  me  - 
you  will  ever  be  welcome,  Captain.     May  I  not 
hope  to  see  you  there  some  day?  " 

"  I  would  be  most  happy,  Mistress  Langford, 
to  entertain  such  a  hope,  but  war  is  a  hard  master. 
Your  way  leads  to  Philadelphia  and  home,  while 
I  go  to  join  Washington  and  offer  my  life  in 
battling  against  that  you  hold  dear.  Most  likely 
'tis  our  farewell." 

She  dropped  her  head  as  I  spoke,  and  was  silent 


PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS      185 

a  moment.  I,  too,  found  my  tongue  suddenly 
tied,  and  so  we  stood  without  speaking.  I  looked 
down  the  road,  hot  and  dusty  in  the  July  sun- 
shine, winding  down  through  a  rocky  defile  and 
then  up  and  over  a  rugged  hill.  When  she 
should  pass  over  that  hill  'twould  be  the  ending 
of  it  all.  And  how  little  was  that  all! 

"  Time  we  were  off !  "  called  Major  Wilmoth, 
and  the  girl's  head  raised  as  she  extended  her 
hand. 

"  But  through  it  all,  please  believe  me  most 
grateful!  "  she  exclaimed. 

I  clasped  the  soft  hand  and  looked  into  her 
eyes. 

"  And  I  am  grateful,  also  —  grateful  to  the 
fate  that  privileged  me  to  serve  you."  My  lips 
touched  her  finger  tips,  and  then  she  turned 
away. 

We  three  who  were  left  behind  watched  the 
cavalcade  as  it  passed  down  the  road  at  a  brisk 
trot,  two  soldiers  riding  in  advance  of  the  chaise 
and  two  in  the  rear,  while  Major  Wilmoth  rode 
beside  the  conveyance.  As  they  passed  over  the 
brow  of  the  hill  we  saw  the  officer  turn  in  his 
saddle  and  wave  his  hat  in  salute,  and  methought 
there  was  flutter  of  kerchief  from  the  chaise. 
Then  they  dipped  over  the  hill  and  were  gone. 


i86  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

I  sat  on  the  veranda  alone  while  mother  and 
daughter  went  into  the  house  and  wept  out  their 
grief.  I  felt  an  impatience  now  for  action,  for 
here  was  I,  a  soldier,  sitting  indolently  in  a  quiet 
nook  of  Valley  Forge  when  there  was  work  for 
every  Patriot  hand!  But  on  the  morrow  Putnam 
would  return,  bringing  with  him  my  horse,  and 
on  the  following  day  I  would  be  off  to  report  my 
miserable  failure  to  the  Chief,  and  to  beg  for  a 
chance  to  retrieve  my  failure  by  desperate  deeds. 
Little  chance  was  there  that  Gayle  Langford  and  I 
would  ever  meet  again.  Poor  lass!  I  wondered 
what  she  would  find  where  her  home  had  once 
stood. 

The  spinning-wheel  was  still  that  day  and  no 
word  of  song  came  from  Mary  Wilmoth's  lips. 
In  truth,  I  saw  her  but  little,  and  then  the  message 
of  sorrow  that  was  writ  on  her  face  told  me  that 
'twas  a  day  which  should  be  hers  alone.  Dinner 
was  but  a  solemn  ceremony;  the  ladies  scarcely 
touched  food,  and  I  ate  but  sparingly.  Then 
during  the  dull,  hot  hours  of  the  afternoon  I 
fretted  alone  in  the  yard,  pacing  nervously  under 
the  trees  and  planning  for  the  future,  and  always 
at  the  end  of  my  beat  I  paused  to  stare  down  the 
hot,  dusty  road  toward  Philadelphia. 

My  thoughts  wandered  and  lagged,  for  I  had 


I    SAW   THAT    THE    RIDEK    IX    FRONT   WAS    SUPPORTED    BY    THE 
ARMS    OF    THE    ONE    BEHIND. — Pdlje  187. 


PARTING  OF   THE   WAYS      187 

suddenly  paused  and  was  gazing  at  a  blotch  on 
the  afternoon  sky,  certainly  a  horseman  coming 
over  the  ridge  from  towards  Philadelphia.  Nearer 
came  the  horse,  in  a  heavy,  rolling  lope  and  I 
stared  curiously  at  its  rider.  Was  he  drunk? 
The  distance  was  great,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
lurched  unsteadily  and,  —  ha!  there  were  two 
riders.  I  could  note  this  plainly  now.  Then  I 
dashed  toward  the  road,  for  I  detected  the  buff 
and  blue  of  a  Continental  uniform.  On  they 
came,  and  I  shaded  my  eyes  with  my  hand  as  I 
strained  to  conquer  the  distance  with  my  vision. 
Closer,  closer,  and  I  saw  that  the  rider  in  front 
was  supported  by  the  arms  of  the  one  behind. 
God's  name!  'Twas  an  officer!  Then  I  caught 
my  breath  and  sprang  over  the  fence,  for  the 
officer  had  straightened  himself  momentarily  in 
the  saddle  and  I  recognized  the  features  of  Wil- 
moth.  And  surely  that  red  stain  was  blood! 
Aye,  now  the  crimson  of  it  was  to  be  seen  on  his 
face  and  on  the  arms  of  the  soldier  who  supported 
him  in  the  saddle. 

"  Heaven's  mercy!  What  ill  has  befallen 
you?  "  I  cried  as  the  horse  pounded  up  to  where 
I  stood  beneath  a  tree. 

"  A  cutthroat  attack,  sir,"  replied  the  soldier, 
reining  in  his  mount. 


i88  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Wilmoth's  chin  was  on  his  breast  and  his  eyes 
were  closed,  his  face  ghastly,  like  ashes  streaked 
with  blood.  I  reached  up  and  the  soldier  loosened 
his  grasp  on  Wilmoth,  who  swayed  in  the  saddle 
and  then,  with  a  feeble,  instinctive  clutch  at 
the  leather,  slid  over  into  my  arms,  uncon- 
scious. 

"  They  jumped  us  in  the  cut  beyond  the  Red 
Fox  inn,  sir,  ten  miles  out  from  the  city."  The 
soldier  swung  himself  from  the  saddle.  "  They 
volleyed  —  " 

"  The  girl!  "  I  cried.     "  What  of  her?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  know.  The 
mercy  o'  God,  but  'twas  quick  and  hellish,  sir. 
They  fired  and  emptied  three  of  our  saddles  and 
then  closed  with  us.  There  was  no  time  for 
powder-burning  by  us.  'Twas  sabre  and  death. 
I  and  my  mate  were  jogging  in  the  rear  when  hell 
belched.  He  tumbled  over  when  they  fired,  and 
then  I  saw  'em  charging  the  chaise.  I  heard  the 
girl  scream  and  saw  the  Major  standing  in  his 
stirrups  with  his  sabre  swinging;  then  I  rode  for 
him,  hacking  my  way  through  the  devil's 
imps." 

I  sprang  to  the  horse  and  had  one  foot  a-stirrup 
when  I  felt  an  iron  grip  on  my  arm,  and,  turning, 
I  looked  into  the  haggard  face  of  the  soldier. 


PARTING   OF   THE   WAYS      189 

"  What  would  you  do?  "  he  asked. 

"  Save  that  girl  from  their  bloody  clutches," 
I  said. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,  but  that  can  wait  now  — 
he  cannot."  He  pointed  to  the  form  on  the 
sward  beneath  the  tree. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  bring  some  water  in  your  hat 
from  the  spring  yonder,"  and  I  turned  to  Wil- 
moth  and  began  loosening  his  clothes. 

We  wet  our  kerchiefs  and  stanched  the  flow  of 
blood  from  a  wound  in  the  breast,  and  while  I 
strove  to  revive  Wilmoth,  the  trooper  continued 
his  story  of  the  fight. 

"  I  got  to  him  and  wre  fought  our  best,  but  the 
chaise  pony  lunged  ahead  and  left  us  behind. 
You  should  have  seen  the  Major  fight  then! 
'  Save  the  girl !  '  he  shouts  to  me,  and  we  tried 
to  fight  our  way  to  her,  but  a  murderous  dog 
shoved  a  pistol  into  his  face,  and  as  I  was  not  in 
position  to  strike,  I  spurred  my  horse  and  rode 
him  down,  but  as  he  fell  he  fired.  I  saw  Wilmoth 
clutch  at  his  breast  with  both  hands,  and  I  caught 
him  as  he  was  falling.  Then  I  swung  over  behind 
him  and  kept  him  in  the  saddle.  I  dropped  my 
sabre  in  doing  this,  and  without  a  weapon,  with 
my  mates  all  down,  I  could  do  nothing  for  the  girl 
if  she  still  lived.  I  clapped  spur  and  made  a 


GAYLE  LANGFORD 

dash  down  the  road.    Luckily,  they  didn't  follow, 
and  —  " 

I  heard  not  the  finish,  for  in  the  cottage  door- 
way I  saw  Mary  Wilmoth  standing,  shading  her 
eyes  and  looking  at  us.  The  next  moment  she 
came  running  out  to  the  road,  and  instinctively 
I  sprang  in  front  of  the  prostrate  form  of  her 
brother  and  motioned  her  back. 

"  Don't  come  here,"  I  cried,  but  she  heeded 
not. 

Without  pausing  or  speaking  she  came  on  until 
I  ran  to  meet  her  and  caught  her  by  the  shoulders. 

"  Let  go!  I  know  they  have  killed  him!  You 
shall  not  keep  me  away!  " 

With  a  quick  wrench  she  tore  herself  from  my 
grasp  and  in  an  instant  had  flung  herself  across 
the  body  of  her  brother,  where  she  sobbed  in  an 
agony  of  grief,  and  though  I  tried  in  my  awk- 
ward way  to  comfort  her,  it  was  idle  speech  until 
I  exclaimed: 

"  We  must  get  him  to  a  bed.  Mistress  Mary, 
be  your  brother's  sister!  " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  dashed  the  tears 
away. 

1  'Tis  well  spoken,  Captain.    Do  you  carry  him 
in  —  tenderly  —  and  — I  will  prepare  mother." 

Without  another  word  she  sped  towards  the 


PARTING   OF  THE   WAYS      191 

house,  while  the  trooper  and  I  followed,  carrying 
the  wounded  officer  as  best  we  could. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  had  him  sufficiently 
revived  to  whisper  to  us  directions  which  his  own 
skill  as  a  physician  dictated. 

"And  you  — Lester  — how  is  — your  — • 
strength?  "  he  queried  brokenly,  but  with  a  gaze 
so  steady  that  I  knew  its  significance. 

"  Equal  to  my  duty!  "   I  cried,  and  he  smiled. 

No  saddle-horse  was  there  about  the  place, 
save  the  trooper's,  and  weary  as  it  was  the  saddle 
was  again  strapped  to  its  back.  For  weapon  I 
had  naught  save  a  dress  sword  of  Wilmoth's,  a 
mere  rapier,  which  the  brave  mother  brought  to 
me.  There  had  been  but  few  words,  and  now  as  I 
stood  ready  to  go,  there  were  but  few.  Wilmoth 
half-raised  one  hand,  and,  stepping  forward,  I 
took  it  in  my  own. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  I  said,  and  turned  towards 
the  door. 

A  few  hasty  words  of  thanks  and  farewell  to 

mother  and  daughter  and  I  was  in  the  saddle, 

but  paused  to  lean  down  towards  Mary  Wilmoth. 

'  Tis  not  farewell.     I  shall  come  again!"    I 

murmured,  and  the  color  deepened  in  her  cheeks. 

That  July  day  I  spake  with  the  tongue  of  a 
prophet. 


CHAPTER  X 

AT   THE    RED    FOX    INN 

AT  the   brow  of   the  hill   I   turned  in   my 
saddle,    but    about    the   Wilmoth   house 
there   was    no   one   visible,  and   with    a 
queer  feeling  of  being  utterly  alone,  I  pushed  my 
jaded  mount  forward  at  as  fast  a  pace  as  it  could 
make. 

The  sun  was  already  hanging  on  the  bluffs  in 
the  west,  and  shadows  were  creeping  down  from 
the  forests,  but,  fret  and  urge  as  I  did,  the  horse 
beneath  me  could  not  be  gotten  out  of  a  heavy, 
plodding  walk.  In  the  west  the  sky  was  in  a  dull 
glow,  as  though  the  sun  had  welded  earth  and 
heaven  together;  then  the  dusk  deepened  and 
the  shrill  cry  of  some  wild  bird  came  to  me  from 
the  river  somewhere  off  to  my  right,  bringing  to 
me  a  shuddering  remembrance  of  the  death  of 
Wilson  on  that  night  scout.  Ere  the  morrow 
dawned  might  I  not  be  with  him  in  his  eternal 

192 


AT   THE   RED  FOX  INN       193 

bivouac?  The  road  turned  sharply  to  the  left 
along  a  rugged  hillside,  and  as  I  jogged  around 
the  turn,  I  suddenly  drew  rein,  for  close  beside 
the  road,  perched  on  a  mammoth  boulder,  was  a 
youth  who  made  a  strange,  clicking  sound  on 
something  he  held  in  his  hands. 

"  Hello!  "  I  cried,  taken  by  surprise. 

The  youth  looked  towards  me,  but  even  in  the 
gloom  I  could  see  that  there  was  neither  surprise 
nor  alarm  on  his  face  —  naught  but  stolidness. 

"  Cricket  loves  a  summer  night  — 

Hi-lo-diddle-de-dee  — 
Sings  its  song  without  any  light  — 
Hi-lo  —  listen  to  me !  " 

The  thing  he  held  in  his  hands  was  clicked  in 
a  rude  accompaniment  to  the  doggerel  chant, 
and  though  at  first  my  hand  had  gone  to  my 
rapier  hilt,  I  now  released  my  grip. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  I  challenged. 

The  clicking  stopped  an  instant. 

"  Rhymer!  "  he  answered,  and  the  clicking  was 
renewed. 

I  smiled.  In  spite  of  my  desperate  mission,  in 
spite  of  my  distress  of  mind,  there  was  that  about 
the  figure  on  the  boulder  that  gave  me  a  touch  of 
mirth. 


194  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

11  By  the  shade  of   Shakespeare,   'tis  a   proper 
enough  name,"  I  replied. 

"  Rhymer,  Rhymer  is  my  name. 
Never,  no  never,  will  I  bring  it  shame. 
My  cricket  I  love,  and  never  do  I  sing 
Of  Washington,  nor  of  George,  the  King." 

"  Neither  Patriot  nor  Loyalist,  eh?  What  is 
that  thing  you  have?  " 

The  clicking  ceased,  and  after  scrutinizing  me 
a  moment,  he  held  it  out  towards  me,  saying: 

"  Cricket." 

'Twas  a  queer  article  I  held  in  my  hand,  being 
nothing  but  a  quarter  of  a  large  hickory- nut  shell 
with  a  groove  around  it  lengthwise  and  with  a 
string  stretched  taut  along  this  groove.  A  bit  of 
wood  was  twisted  into  this  string,  and  as  the 
fingers  thrummed  one  end  of  the  wood,  the  tension 
of  the  string  clicked  the  other  end  sharply  against 
the  dry  shell.  I  handed  it  back  to  him. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  Red  Fox  inn?  "  I 
straightened  in  the  saddle,  ready  to  ride  on. 


"  Red  Fox  lives  beyond  the  wood ; 
I'd  hate  to  walk,  but  a  big  man  could. 
There  my  cricket's  song  will  bring  no  smile, 
For  it  cannot  be  heard  a  double  half-mile." 


AT   THE  RED  FOX  INN       195 

"  Double  half-mile?  Oh,  a  mile  from  here, 
beyond  the  wood." 

The  rhymer  had  left  his  perch  on  the  rock  and 
was  now  walking  slowly  in  a  circle  around  my 
horse  and  me,  and  through  the  dusk  I  could  see 
that  his  eyes  were  noting  every  detail  of  animal 
and  rider.  His  cricket  was  hushed  and  he  spoke 
no  word,  but  swept  me  from  stirrup  to  head  with 
that  solemn,  owlish  gaze.  For  a  moment  I 
humored  him  in  silence,  but  as  he  slowly  tramped 
around  and  around  me  I  began  to  feel  a  creepy 
sensation  as  though  a  witch  were  casting  a  spell 
upon  me. 

"  Have  done  with  your  staring,  you  imp  of  the 
shadows!  "  I  exclaimed  in  vexation.  "  What  do 
you  here?  " 

Never  a  word  came  in  reply,  but  he  paused  in 
his  circling  and  stood  looking  at  me  unblinkingly. 
My  curiosity  set  me  to  studying  him,  but  all  that 
my  scrutiny  told  me  was  that  before  me  stood  a 
youth  of  very  uncertain  age,  tall  and  gaunt,  ill- 
dressed,  and  with  a  shock  of  straw-colored  hair. 
"  A  half-wit,"  I  told  myself  in  conclusion. 

"Out  of  my  way,  dunce!"  I  cried,  "or  I'll 
ride  you  down." 

But  never  a  muscle  twitched,  nor  did  his  stare 
falter  for  the  space  of  a  breath. 


i96  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

11  By  the  dagger  of  Brutus,  you  have  bored  a 
hole  from  my  breastbone  to  my  spinal  cord  with 
your  stare!  Tell  me,  what  may  it  please  you 
to  decide?  " 

I  spoke  sharply,  for  anger  was  warming  the 
blood  of  me.  The  cricket  clicked  and  he  droned 
in  a  low  tone: 

"  Wild  hawks  know  a  game-cock  from  a  hen  — 
It's  death  to  the  cock  to  be  trapped  in  a  pen. 
A  witch  is  a  witch  —  rides  a  broomstick  like  a  hag  — 
Don't  play  macaroni  on  a  soldier's  nag." 

The  cricket  hushed  abruptly,  and  almost  with 
the  last  word  the  strange  being  whirled  and 
dashed  into  the  timber  on  the  hillside. 

"  Stop!  Come  back!  "  I  shouted,  but  he  gave 
me  no  heed. 

The  youth,  be  he  fool  or  sage,  had  warned  me! 
;<  Don't  play  macaroni  on  a  soldier's  nag."  I 
glanced  at  my  Tory  finery,  and,  in  truth,  I  was 
beruffled  and  frilled  with  lace  and  satins  like  a 
London  dandy,  even  to  the  light  rapier  that  hung 
at  my  side.  And  my  horse?  Simply  a  sturdy 
animal.  But  my  eyes  rested  on  my  saddle.  There 
was  the  telltale.  No  mincing  macaroni  ever 
chose  such  a  saddle.  It  and  the  ponderous  sad- 
dle-bags bespoke  the  trooper  in  every  inch. 


AT   THE   RED   FOX  INN       197 

"Rhymer"  had  picked  the  flaws;  would  not 
others?  "  A  witch  is  a  witch, —  rides  a  broom- 
stick like  a  hag!  "  The  shrewd  imp  was  telling 
me  to  be  consistent.  Pah!  I  was  not  out  to 
deceive,  but  to  fight  and  rescue.  Aye,  to  rescue 
a  Tory  who  hated  all  I  loved.  I  clucked  to  my 
horse  and  rode  slowly  forward.  But,  after  all, 
how  was  it  to  be  done?  Gayle  Langford  was  - 
where?  Was  I  to  go  galloping  up  the  road,  crying 
out  into  the  night  a  challenge  to  her  assailants  to 
come  forth  and  do  battle  and  then  release  her? 
Darkness  was  come  and  silence  brooded  over  the 
earth,  a  fit  time  for  deeds  of  stealth  and  cunning 
rather  than  of  trumpet-blared  recklessness. 

The  attack  had  taken  place  beyond  the  inn, 
and  a  duller  brain  than  even  mine  could  see  that 
the  plot  of  ambush  was  formed  while  rWilmoth's 
party  rested  at  the  tavern,  and  that  when  they 
had  pressed  on,  the  devils  had  begun  their  car- 
nage. Had  Gayle  Langford  survived?  The 
answer  was  too  plain.  There  was  no  doubt  that 
no  bullet  had  reached  her  —  unfortunately.  They 
had  seen  her  at  the  inn  and  death  was  not  her 
sentence.  I  found  myself  clutching  at  my  rapier, 
and  my  heels  scourging  the  horse's  flanks  until 
it  was  plunging  forward  once  more  in  a  gallop. 
The  evening  air  was  cooling  to  my  brow,  and  after 


GAYLE  LANGFORD 

a  time  I  grew  calmer.  Down  the  road  a  light 
was  shining  through  the  darkness,  probably  the 
beacon  of  the  Red  Fox  inn,  and  I  drew  rein  and 
cudgelled  my  brains  for  a  plan. 

"  Wild  hawks  know  a  game-cock  from  a  hen  — 
It's  death  to  the  cock  to  be  trapped  in  a  pen." 

The  Red  Fox,  undoubtedly,  was  the  hotbed  of 
crime,  the  headquarters  of  assassins,  and  the 
dunce  on  the  hillside  had  warned  me  with  his 
rhymes  against  being  trapped  in  the  pen;  he 
had  told  me  they  would  know  "  a  game-cock 
from  a  hen  "  —  a  soldier  from  a  fop.  The  Red 
Fox  was  close  at  hand;  whatever  my  plan,  I 
must  choose  it  quickly.  And  I  did.  Slipping 
from  my  saddle,  I  led  the  horse  back  a  little  way 
into  the  wood  and  tied  him  to  a  tree,  after  which 
I  returned  to  the  road,  deliberately  sprawled 
myself  at  full  length  in  the  dust,  and,  setting  my 
teeth,  picked  up  a  hand  full  of  gravel  and  scraped 
my  face  with  it  that  the  blood-streaks  would  show. 
Then  I  trudged  forward  to  where  the  great  lantern 
hung  in  front  of  the  inn. 

Zounds!  The  memory  of  that  night  is  heavy 
upon  me  now,  and  I  fancy  I  can  see  again  the 
faint  flash  of  the  heat  lightning  as  it  glimmered 
along  the  horizon  in  the  east.  The  slight  breeze 


AT   THE  RED  FOX  INN       199 

had  fallen  away  until  it  was  now  a  dead  calm, 
with  the  stars  peeping  here  and  there  from 
amidst  broken  masses  of  clouds,  and  over  all  a 
silence  that  seemed  oppressive,  until  I  drew  close 
to  the  inn,  a  great,  rambling  structure  of  two 
stories,  and  then  the  quiet  of  the  night  was 
broken  by  a  man's  voice  raised  in  a  drinking  song. 

I  fain  would  have  paused  beneath  the  beacon 
to  take  note  of  my  appearance,  but  this  was  not 
to  be,  for,  as  I  approached,  a  wizened  little  old 
man  came  to  the  open  door  and  leaned  carelessly 
against  the  casing,  the  while  smoking  a  long- 
stemmed  pipe.  He  was  looking  up  at  the  sky  for 
the  moment,  but  as  I  advanced,  limping,  his 
eyes  suddenly  rested  on  me;  and  with  an  ex- 
clamation he  stepped  a  pace  backward,  and,  pipe 
in  hand,  stood  looking  at  me  irresolutely.  At 
his  exclamation  the  song  hushed,  and  three  or 
four  other  forms  were  framed  in  the  doorway 
with  its  background  of  candle-light. 

I  limped  boldly  forward  and  crossed  the 
threshold  to  confront  an  evil-looking  set  with 
the  word  "  cutthroat  "  plainly  stamped  on  their 
visages. 

"  Give  me  a  seat  and  do  your  gaping  after- 
wards," I  said,  pausing  a  moment,  and  assuming 
a  surly  tone. 


200  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

As  I  spoke  I  ran  my  eyes  over  their  faces, 
challenging  their  stares,  and  giving  look  for  look. 
A  short  apron  was  about  the  waist  of  the  wizened 
one,  the  badge  of  the  host,  and  I  scowled  at  him 
as  he  hesitated. 

"  D'ye  hear,  clown?  A  stool  for  a  gentle- 
man! " 

The  blood  of  a  long  line  of  innkeepers  was  too 
strong  in  his  veins  to  resist  the  commanding  tone, 
and  his  hands  crossed  themselves  behind  his 
back  as  he  ducked  his  head  in  an  obeisance. 

"  Yes,  sir,  most  certainly,  a  stool  ;  sit  here, 
sir,  and  may  its  comfort  please  you." 

He  placed  a  stool  at  a  table  for  me  and  put  his 
arm  back  of  me  for  support  as  I  sat  down  gingerly, 
straightened  out  my  right  leg,  and  pursed  my  lips 
as  though  in  pain. 

"  A  flagon  of  wine,  landlord,  and  don't  be  as 
slow  as  you  were  with  the  stool." 

"  Your  temper's  brittle  to-night,"  remarked 
one  of  the  men,  grinning,  as  the  innkeeper  danced 
away  to  fill  my  order. 

I  glowered  at  the  speaker,  and  'tis  not  flattery 
to  myself  that  I  say  that  my  look  feazed  him, 
for  the  grin  left  his  face  and  he  stepped  back  a 
pace.  Then  I  appeared  to  melt,  and  let  my  gaze 
wander  carelessly. 


AT   THE   RED  FOX  INN       201 

"  Mayhap  it's  none  of  your  porridge,  my  buck, 
but  I  guess  you're  right,  though  it's  devilish 
good  reason  I  have  for  crabbedness."  I  glanced 
down  at  myself  and  began  brushing  my 
clothes. 

"  What's  happened?  " 

"  Horse  threw  me  into  the  dust.  Ugh!  My 
throat's  lined  with  it!  Ho,  landlord!  Bring  cups 
for  my  friends  here.  They  shall  help  me  moisten 
my  temper." 

The  invitation  to  drink  was  as  magic,  and 
they  crowded  about  me  with  rude  banter  concern- 
ing my  mishap. 

"  Where'd  it  happen?  "  asked  one,  a  murderous- 
looking  lout  who  had  not  warmed  at  my  invitation 
as  the  others  had. 

"  Down  below  here —  in  a  cut."  I  waved 
my  hand  towards  Philadelphia,  and  while  pre- 
tending to  smooth  my  clothes  I  caught  the 
glance  that  flashed  from  one  to  another,  and 
which  told  me  as  though  'twere  writ  that  these 
were  they  who  had  ambushed  Wilmoth's 
party. 

"  Where's  the  horse?  " 

"  Well-nigh  to  Philadelphia  by  this  time,  I 
expect.  At  least,  he  was  going  back  in  that 
direction  as  though  all  of  the  horse-devils  were 


202  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

after  him  the  last  I  saw  of  him.  Confound  the 
brute,  I  suppose  he  saw  something  that  caused 
him  to  whirl  and  bolt.  I  know  I  saw  something  — 
stars  —  when  he  threw  me." 

The  innkeeper  brought  the  wine,  and  right 
merrily  did  they  drink  at  my  expense,  and  chaff 
at  my  plight  seemed  royal  entertainment  to  them. 
I  called  again  and  again  for  more  wine,  and 
though  I  was  precious  careful  to  stint  my  own 
cup  and  to  make  bumpers  of  theirs,  I  gradually 
assumed  an  air  of  intoxication  until,  sprawling 
myself  with  a  table  as  a  rest  for  my  elbows,  I 
roared  out  bits  of  song  and  swore  that  should  I 
ever  meet  up  with  that  horse  it  should  have  an 
extra  bait  of  corn  for  throwing  me  into  the  com- 
pany of  such  good  fellows.  Since  my  meeting 
with  Rhymer,  I  realized  that  craftiness  and 
not  bold  effrontery  must  rescue  Gayle  Langford, 
for  that  she  was  a  prisoner  somewhere  about  the 
inn  I  felt  certain.  As  to  how  I  was  to  be  of 
service  to  her  God  wot,  not  I. 

"  And  where  might  you  be  travelling,  friend?  " 
queried  one  knave,  his  arm  about  my  shoulder. 

"  To  the  worms,"  I  replied,  blinking  at  him 
solemnly. 

"  To  the  worms?  "  he  echoed,  while  the  others 
stared. 


AT   THE   RED  FOX  INN       203 

"  Of  a  truth,  yes.  And  with  me  go  ye  all,  for 
they  hold  frolic  for  us  in  the  graves,  whither  we 
are  journeying." 

"  Ugh !    Tis  a  devilish  dismal  humor  you  have." 

A  shudder  seemed  to  run  through  the  crowd, 
and  I  saw  an  ashy  pallor  showing  in  more  than 
one  cheek,  while  the  half-drained  cups  went 
shakingly  to  lips  and  the  wine  was  gulped. 

"  Dismal?  Breath  o'  me,  man,  'tis  not  so! 
Are  we  not  a  merry  party  here?  And  what  care 
we  what  feasts  this  sweet  flesh  of  ours  shall 
furnish  after  we  lay  it  aside  ?  'Tis  a  long  journey  — • 
or,  mayhap,  a  short  one,  in  these  troublous  times. 
A  hot  bullet,  or  perhaps  a  cold  blade  that  warms 
itself  in  our  vitals,  — 'tis  soon  ended — aye, 
even  though  it  be  the  hangman's  noose  that 
interrupts  our  drop,  squeezes  our  gullet,  and 
cracks  our  neck!  " 

I  had  straightened  up  and  delivered  the  grisly 
speech  with  all  the  dramatics  I  could  command, 
dropping  my  voice  towards  the  close  until  the 
words  came  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  I  ran  my  eyes 
slowly  over  the  group  as  I  paused,  and  saw  horror 
there.  Faces  that  had  shown  pallor  before  were 
ghastly  now,  and  more  than  one  hand  stole  to 
throat  and  clutched  at  it  as  though  the  man  were 
choking. 


204  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

11  Damn  your  croakings —  who  are  you?  " 
demanded  one,  fiercely,  the  gray  still  showing  in 
his  cheeks. 

"  An  atom  doomed  to  be  blown  here  and  there 
by  the  storm  we  call  life." 

"  And  where  did  you  blow  from  last?  " 

"  From  Philadelphia." 

"  What  brought  you  riding  down  -into  this 
community?  " 

I  glanced  carelessly  around  at  the  group,  and 
everywhere  I  met  black  looks,  but  'twas  in  keep- 
ing with  my  plan,  for  I  had  decided  that  they 
would  suspect  my  real  purpose  less  if  I  appeared 
careless  of  their  good  regard  than  if  I  sought 
their  friendship.  And  if  it  came  to  a  fight — 

"  Mayhap  for  my  health,"  I  replied,  shrugging 
my  shoulders.  "  It  has  grown  wondrous  sultry 
in  the  city  since  the  Independence  bell  rang." 

A  puzzled  look  passed  over  their  faces. 

"  Look  here,  you  ain't  alone  in  that  idea.  But 
you'd  better  speak  plainer.  Maybe  we'd  better 
understand  each  other  for  certain." 

"  Ho,  landlord,  more  wine!  "  I  called,  wishing 
to  gain  a  moment,  for  I  was  not  prepared  to 
speak  plainly. 

As  the  innkeeper  hurried  away  to  fill  the  order, 
there  was  a  sudden  clicking  just  outside  the 


AT   THE   RED   FOX  INN      205 

front  door,  and  the  next  instant  Rhymer  stood 
in  the  doorway,  thrumming  his  cricket  and 
executing  a  foolish  sort  of  dance  by  hopping  up 
and  down  on  one  foot  and  tapping  the  heel  and 
toe  of  the  other  shoe  on  the  floor. 

"  Wild  hawk  prowls  by  day  and  by  night  — 

Game-cock  is  wise  if  he  takes  to  flight. 
'  Game-cock  is  mine,'  says  the  wild  hawk  brag, 
«  For  I've  got  my  eye  on  the  broomstick  of  a  hag.' " 

The  dance  of  the  dunce  was  not  stayed  by  the 
crazy  chant  that  was  given  in  rhythm  to  the 
clicking  of  the  cricket,  and  not  once  did  he  glance 
towards  me,  but  it  shot  to  my  brain  that  he  was 
intending  his  words  for  me.  There  was  a  sudden 
hush  when  the  fellow  first  entered  and  began  his 
jigging,  then  the  innkeeper  came  forward. 

"  Don't  mind  him,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  it's 
only  Rhymer." 

"  And  who  is  Rhymer?  "  growled  one. 

The  landlord  flung  out  his  arms  and  spread 
his  palms. 

"  Lor',  no  one  knows  much  about  him  except 
that  he's  touched  here  "  (tapping  his  head),  "  and 
works  around  at  the  farms.  Sometimes  he 
wanders  away  and  is  gone  for  days,  but  when  he 
comes  back  he  can't  tell  where  he  has  been,  but 


2o6  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

he  says  he  has  been  with  the  squirrels  and  the 
birds.  He's  a  good  worker  in  the  daytime,  but 
at  night  he  likes  to  wander  around  with  his 
cricket,  making  up  foolish  rhymes." 

I  edged  around  to  a  position  directly  in  front 
of  the  strange  creature  and  looked  him  full  in 
the  face  with  a  question  plainly  showing  in  my 
eyes,  but  though  the  fellow  took  no  more  notice 
of  me  than  if  I  had  been  a  stool,  he  stepped  a  bit 
closer  and  his  voice  was  lower  and  hinted  at  a 
pleading  tone  as  he  chanted  more  doggerel : 

"  There  was  a  game-cock  that  had  no  sense  ; 
It  crowed  at  night  on  an  old  rail  fence  ; 
But  a  bad  man  came  slipping  down  the  road  — 
That  was  the  very  last  time  that  game-cock  crowed." 

There  was  no  doubt  left  in  my  mind.  He  was 
warning  me.  I  was  the  game-cock  that  crowed 
at  night  —  and,  outside,  danger  was  closing 
about  me.  Instinctively  my  hand  crept  to  my 
rapier  and  loosened  the  blade  in  its  scabbard 
and  —  yes,  by  the  sword  of  Washington,  a  glimmer 
of  satisfaction,  of  approval,  or  some  kindred 
emotion,  flashed  across  Rhymer's  face  as  I  did 
so.  'Twas  always  my  weakness  to  hold  in  dread 
that  which  was  unseen  much  more  than  that  I 
could  see,  and  so  as  the  dunce  began  another 


AT   THE   RED   FOX  INN       207 

measureless  dance  to  the  clickety-click-click, 
clickety-click-click,  of  the  cricket,  I  found  myself 
edging  towards  the  door  with  the  intention  of 
choosing  my  own  battle-ground  if  fight  I  must. 

The  half-drunken  varlets  were  vastly  amused 
with  the  caperings  of  Rhymer,  and  I  was  near  to 
succeeding  when  there  were  a  few  hasty  steps 
heard  without,  and  as  I  sprang  for  the  door  I  was 
confronted  by  a  man  of  my  own  height,  though 
inclined  to  stoutness,  and  as  I  looked  at  him, 
barring  my  exit,  I  noted  a  heavy  blade  hanging 
at  his  side,  such  a  blade  as  I  had  seen  carried  by 
the  men  of  Wilmoth's  horse.  For  a  moment  we 
stood  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  our  hands 
on  our  sword-hilts,  perfect  silence  about  us,  for 
even  Rhymer  had  paused  to  stare  with  the  others 
at  our  little  tableau.  The  other  was  first  to  speak. 

"  Ah,  not  leaving  these  jolly  dogs  so  uncere- 
moniously, are  you?  "  he  asked,  and  though  his 
words  were  polite,  the  challenge  behind  them 
could  not  be  hidden. 

"  But  for  a  breath  of  air  and  a  peep  at  the 
weather,"  I  replied,  searching  my  memory  to 
locate  that  voice,  for  it  had  been  in  my  ears  before 
then,  I  would  have  made  oath. 

He  laughed,  but  no  mirth  was  in  his  tone. 

"  'Tis  a  fairish  night,  with  the  moon  just  peep- 


208  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

ing  over  the  woodland,"  he  replied.  "  So  much 
for  that.  For  the  breath,  pray  remain  until  we 
come  to  know  each  other  better.  How  came  you 
here?  " 

That  I  was  in  one  of  the  closest  places  of  my 
reckless  life  I  fully  realized,  and,  stepping  aside, 
I  placed  my  back  to  the  wall  before  I  replied: 

"  Hoity  toity!  My  swashbuckling  friend,  you 
question  as  though  'twere  aught  of  your  business. 
Tis  in  my  mind  to  cuff  you  for  your  insolence. 
But  these  bucks  here  could  answer,  so  I  will  say 
my  own  say.  I  rode  out  from  Philadelphia 
town  —  " 

"  And  down  here  in  the  cut  his  nag  saw 
ghosts  —  ha,  ha!  —  and  bolted  back  to  town,  after 
sprawling  him  in  the  dust.  Ho,  ho!  "  The  tipsy 
knave  laughed  at  the  thought. 

"  He  lies!  " 

Instantly  my  rapier  flashed  from  its  scabbard 
and  there  was  a  clatter  as  every  rascal  of  them 
came  to  his  feet,  but  quickly  as  I  had  drawn,  the 
man  in  the  doorway  had  bared  his  blade  no  less 
tardily. 

"  I  found  this  fellow's  horse  tied  in  the  wood 
below  here,  and  I  swear  those  fine  feathers  are 
false  plumage.  Men,  before  you  stands  a  cornered 
rat  —  a  spy  from  Washington!  " 


AT   THE  RED  FOX  INN       209 

The  flesh  of  me  grows  cold  even  now  when  I 
recall  that  moment.  The  faces  about  me  dark- 
ened with  a  sudden  storm  of  passion,  and  a  low, 
muttering  growl  arose  as  they  moved  as  though 
to  assail  me.  But  I  waited  not.  With  a  spring, 
I  played  my  rapier  so  close  to  the  circle  of  faces 
that  they  dropped  back  a  pace,  and  then  with 
another  bound  I  was  back  to  my  position  against 
the  wall. 

"  Aye,  shrink  back,  you  buzzards,  and  have  a 
care  how  you  list  to  the  chattering  of  such  mag- 
pies as  he!  " 

'Twas  my  purpose  to  taunt  him  into  attacking 
me,  for  such  was  my  confidence  in  my  wrist  and 
arm  that  I  believed  I  could  vanquish  him  with 
the  others  driven  back,  but  he  made  no  reply, 
save  to  turn  and  whisper  a  few  words  to  one  of 
his  fellows,  who  nodded  and  left  the  room,  and 
a  moment  later  I  heard  his  heavy  soles  on  the 
stairway.  Rhymer  now  clicked  his  cricket  and, 
shuffling  his  feet,  began  chanting: 

"  When  a  big  storm  comes  in  the  lonesome  night, 

Hi-lo-diddle-de-dee  — 
It  seems  to  me  that  —  " 

"  Have  done  with  that  yawp!  "  exclaimed  one 
burly  ruffian,  cutting  short  the  dunce's  dance 


210  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

by  seizing  him  by  the  throat  and  hurling  him 
aside. 

By  this  time  I  had  come  to  look  for  some  word 
of  warning  or  advice  in  the  strange  fellow's  chants, 
and  I  was  just  turning  to  see  where  he  had  been 
flung,  when  I  heard  the  unmistakable  svvish,  swish 
of  skirts.  I  faced  the  doorway  that  led  to  the 
stairs,  and  there  before  me  stood  Gayle  Langford. 

Yes,  by  the  blood  of  my  veins,  there  was  the 
little  Tory,  as  calm  as  a  June  evening,  looking 
us  over  as  though  curious  to  know  why  we  were 
there,  and  there  were  no  ropes  about  her,  nothing 
to  indicate  that  she  was  a  prisoner.  As  her  eyes 
looked  into  mine  something  showed  in  them,  but 
her  gaze  shifted  too  quickly  for  me  to  read  the 
message.  The  man  who  had  denounced  me  bowed 
obsequiously  to  her. 

"  Mistress  Langford,"  he  said,  "  will  you  please 
tell  us  who  this  man  is?  "  He  pointed  to  me. 

I  held  my  breath.  Slowly  she  looked  me  over, 
while  my  heart  beat  against  my  ribs  like  a  hammer. 

"  It  is  Ian  Lester,  a  captain  of  Continentals!  " 

As  I  heard  my  doom  spoke  by  her  whom  I  had 
lost  honor,  aye,  doubtless  my  life  now,  in  serving, 
a  bitter  curse  fell  from  my  lips,  and  then  like  a 
thunderbolt  of  fury  I  flung  myself  at  the  fellow 
before  me,  but  the  knave  was  as  quick  as  I,  and 


AT   THE   RED   FOX  INN       211 

his  blade  turned  aside  my  desperate  lunge.  Twice, 
thrice,  our  steel  clashed,  and  then  my  rapier 
shattered  against  his  heavier  blade,  leaving  but 
the  hilt  and  a  stub  in  my  hand. 

"  I'll  kill  you,  you  meddler!  "  he  grated. 

The  light  of  murder  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he 
dropped  the  point  of  his  sword  and  lunged  at  my 
heart.  There  was  room  for  but  a  short  backward 
spring  on  my  part,  and  as  I  took  it  I  struck  at  his 
weapon  with  my  broken  blade,  but  I  knew  'twas 
a  vain  defence  and  that  I  could  not  turn  his  stroke. 

But  with  a  wild  howl  of  terror  Rhymer  plunged 
forward  as  the  fellow  aimed  the  stroke,  and  their 
bodies  clashed  together  just  in  time  to  swerve 
his  point,  and  instead  of  spitting  me  it  pierced 
my  coat  and  scraped  a  rib.  Rhymer  seemed  to 
have  gone  daft  with  terror,  for  he  shrieked  like 
some  wild  thing,  and,  recovering  from  the  shock 
of  the  first  collision,  he  butted  headlong  into  the 
others,  bowling  some  of  them  over  and  mixing 
them  up  into  indescribable  confusion.  But  the 
fellow  who  had  assailed  me  was  on  his  feet  re- 
covering himself  for  another  lunge,  when,  of  a 
sudden,  Gayle  Langford  threw  herself  in  front  of 
me  with  upraised  arms. 

"  Stop! "  she  cried.  "  There  must  be  no 
killing!  " 


212  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

"  Stand  aside!  " 

"  I'll  not!  "  and  she  stepped  towards  him. 
"You  forget  —  " 

The  remainder  of  the  sentence  was  spoken  to 
him  in  a  whisper  as  she  leaned  over  his  blade 
towards  him,  but  since  his  threat,  "  I'll  kill  you, 
you  meddler,"  my  mind  had  been  groping  to 
recall  where  I  had  heard  his  voice  and  those 
words  before,  and  now  I  remembered.  The  knave 
before  me  was  he  with  whom  I  had  fought  on 
the  veranda  outside  Gayle  Langford's  window. 
Doubtless  he  had  been  a  guest  at  the  house  that 
night  and  had  seen  me  there.  Whatever  her 
words  were,  they  caused  him  to  lower  his  weapon, 
though  a  protest  came  from  the  gang,  who  had 
recovered  from  their  confusion  and  kicked  the 
dunce  out  into  the  night.  She  turned  towards 
them  and  her  chin  upturned  a  trifle. 

"  He  is  your  prisoner,  unarmed;  take  him!  " 

She  stepped  aside  and  they  hurled  themselves 
on  to  me,  and  though  I  struggled  desperately 
'twas  soon  over  and  I  was  in  their  hands,  my 
clothes  torn,  and  on  the  floor  before  me  a  crushed 
red  rose  that  had  fallen  from  my  bosom.  One  of 
the  knaves  picked  it  up  and  held  it  aloft. 

"  See!  "  he  cried.  "  The  spy  has  been  a  wooing! 
Where  there's  a  rose  there  has  been  a  wench!  " 


'•  TlIE    SPY    HAS    BKKX    A-WOOIXG  !       WHERE    THERE'S    A    ROSE 
THERE    HAS   BKKN    A    WEXCH  !  "  —  P(UJ€212. 


AT   THE   RED   FOX  INN       213 

I  glanced  at  the  girl.  She  stood  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  remains  of  the  flower,  a  dull  red 
creeping  into  her  cheeks. 

"  Thank  you  for  tearing  it  out  of  my  bosom," 
I  said.  "  'Twould  have  burnt  my  flesh  had  it 
remained." 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE     SHADOW 

FOR  a  breath  there  was  no  sound  in  the 
room,  and  then  Gayle  Langford  turned 
away. 

"  I  bid  you  good  night,  my  loyal  friends,"  she 
said,  but  at  the  stairway  she  paused  and  glanced 
towards  me.  Only  for  a  flash  did  our  eyes  meet, 
and  then  she  gathered  up  her  skirts  and  ran  up 
the  stairs,  a  burst  of  laughter  coming  from  her 
lips;  aye,  laughter  that  mocked  me,  though  with 
all  its  mockery  it  sounded  hysterical  to  my  ears. 
Around  me  was  a  semicircle  of  enemies,  and 
behind  me  was  the  wall;  further  fighting  on  my 
part  was  folly,  so  I  rearranged  my  clothing  as 
coolly  as  I  could  command  myself,  and  sat 
down. 

"  Will  not  some  one  say  the  word?    I'm  dry  as 
a  herring,"  I  said,  tilting  back  my  chair. 

Such  an  unexpected  act  and  speech  almost 
214 


THE   SHADOW  215 

took  them  off  their  feet,  and  there  was  a  faint 
glint  of  admiration  in  the  leader's  eyes  as  he 
slapped  his  thigh. 

"  Body  o'  me,  but  you're  a  cool  one!  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  A  nerve  like  that  would  bring  you 
something  if  you  fought  for  the  King.  And 
why  shouldn't  you  do  something  for  yourself? 
The  most  you  can  hope  for  with  Washington  is 
a  hangman's  noose.  With  the  King  you  would 
have  something  to  live  for  —  the  King  knows 
how  to  reward." 

He  paused  and  I  sat  silent.  Evidently  he  took 
encouragement  from  this. 

"  Why  not?  "  he  added.  "  Eh,  what  say 
you?  " 

"  Simply  that  I  would  knock  you  down  could  I 
reach  you,"  I  replied. 

"  Ho,  landlord,  wine  for  us  all!  "  he  cried, 
turning  to  the  innkeeper.  Then,  turning  to  me, 
he  added:  "  If  you  will  not  fight  with  us  you 
shall  drink  with  us." 

"  Good  wine  has  no  politics,  but  'tis  apt  to 
make  mortal  man  forget  his  God,  his  King,  or  his 
country,  once  it  takes  command  of  his  brain. 
Here's  hoping  that  when  next  we  meet  you  cannot 
jump  from  the  veranda!  " 

His  cup  had  gone  to  his  lips,  but  he  lowered  it, 


216  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

paused,  and  then,  raising  it  once  more,  drained 
it.  But  I  knew  my  shot  had  struck  home. 

"  Your  riddles  are  as  silly  as  Rhymer's,"  he 
said. 

"  If  they  be  too  deep  for  you,  ask  the  Prince  to 
solve  them." 

"  Your  tongue  is  as  sharp  as  Mephisto's  fork. 
Landlord,  our  friend  wishes  to  retire.  Show  him 
to  a  nice,  quiet  room,  and  some  of  these  other 
gentlemen  will  accompany  you."  Then  the 
knave  turned  to  me.  "  Will  you  go  along  peace- 
ably or  shall  we  do  battle  and  bind  you?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Think  you  I  so  greatly  love  your  company? 
I  prefer  my  prison." 

As  I  spoke  I  rose  to  my  feet  and  four  of  the 
fellows  laid  their  hands  on  me.  Mercy  o'  God, 
but  my  blood  was  near  to  cooking  my  veins,  so 
hot  it  was,  but  for  once  I  had  kept  my  brains  at 
work  and  made  no  struggle.  There  was  a  hurried 
consultation  in  whispers,  and  then  the  innkeeper 
took  up  a  candle  and  led  the  way  up  the  stairs. 
There  was  a  broad  landing  or  hallway  at  the  top, 
with  a  room  at  one  end  and  other  rooms  along 
the  side.  What  manner  of  structure  it  was  at 
the  far  end  of  the  hall  I  could  not  tell  then,  for  it 
lay  in  shadow. 


THE    SHADOW  217 

"  The  end  room  is  the  one,"  said  the  landlord, 
pausing  at  its  door  and  fumbling  with  his  keys. 
"  Only  one  window  —  and  it  is  barred  —  with  a 
rocky  precipice  below  it.  He'd  as  well  cut  his 
throat  as  to  try  that  window." 

"  And  a  gallant  buck  with  a  bit  o'  steel  will 
stay  close  outside  the  door  here  to  keep  him  from 
gettin'  too  lonesome,"  responded  one  of  the 
roughs,  and  the  others  chuckled. 

The  innkeeper  threw  open  the  door.  :<  Walk 
right  in,"  he  said,  bowing  in  mock  servility. 
"An'  may  it  please  your  - 

"  Ah,  gentlemen,  so  that  is  to  be  the  rebel's 
quarters?  " 

'Twas  a  woman's  voice  that  interrupted,  and, 
wheeling  about  I  saw  Gayle  Langford  standing 
in  the  doorway  of  the  room  at  the  other  end  of 
the  hall,  a  candle  held  aloft  in  her  hand,  and  by  its 
light  I  noted  that  another  hallway  led  off  to  the 
left  at  the  end. 

"  Yes,  and  you  may  sleep  in  peace,  my  lady, 
for  the  fellow  will  not  cause  any  further  bother 
this  night." 

A  light  laugh  from  the  girl  followed  this  assur- 
ance. 

"I'll  confess  that  I  was  curious  to  know  where 
you  would  find  a  perfectly  safe  place  for  him. 


218  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

He  cannot  escape  from  there?  "  There  was  a 
question  in  her  tone. 

For  answer  one  fellow  clapped  his  hand  to  the 
blade  that  hung  at  his  side. 

"  Not  unless  he  swallows  this  toothpick  of 
mine,"  he  said,  grinning. 

"Have  done  with  your  clownish  jests!"  I 
growled.  "  Lock  the  door  and  shut  yourself 
from  my  sight." 

I  turned  my  back  to  the  treacherous  girl  at  the 
other  end  of  the  hall  and  walked  into  the  room; 
there  was  another  burst  of  laughter  from  her,  and 
I  heard  her  door  shut.  I  heard  one  of  the  knaves 
catch  his  breath  sharply,  and  as  I  looked  at  him 
I  saw  him  gazing  down  the  hallway,  and  in  his 
eyes  was  that  which  caused  me  to  shudder  in 
pity  for  the  tender-reared  girl  whose  hatred  of  the 
Continentals  was  prompting  her  to  terms  of 
fellowship  with  these  hell-hounds.  Then  I  looked 
about  me.  In  one  corner  stood  a  bed,  and  beside 
it  a  heavy  chair,  but  not  another  stick  of  furniture 
was  there  in  the  room. 

"  Sweet  dreams  o'  Washington,"  called  one  as 
the  door  was  banged  shut  behind  me,  leaving  me 
in  darkness. 

But  scarcely  had  the  key  turned  in  the  lock 
than  I  had  sprung  to  the  door  and  had  my  ear 


THE   SHADOW  219 

close  to  the  keyhole.  I  heard  the  laugh  that 
followed  the  parting  jest  and  then  the  clatter  of 
their  heavy  feet  as  they  went  down  the  stairs, 
calling  back  to  the  one  on  guard  to  "  slit  the  spy  " 
if  he  caused  trouble. 

They  were  gone,  but  I  was  not  left  in  entire 
darkness,  for  a  tiny  ray  of  light  peeped  in  where 
some  hand  in  other  days  had  whittled  a  small 
crescent-shaped  place  on  the  edge  of  the  door 
close  to  the  lock.  Doubtless  some  other  prisoner 
had  begun  carving  his  way  to  freedom,  but  evi- 
dently his  work  had  been  soon  interfered  with. 

That  ray  of  light  held  small  attraction  for  me, 
and  I  left  the  door  and  went  to  the  window, 
where  the  moon  was  peeping  in  at  me.  The 
window  was  heavily  barred,  but  I  could  look  out 
on  a  scene  of  quiet  beauty,  where  the  rugged  hills 
that  bordered  the  Schuylkill  were  softened  by 
the  moonlight,  and  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  another 
world,  a  world  of  peace  and  glory ;  a  world  where 
there  was  no  demand  called  duty  that  cried  for 
the  heart's  blood;  a  world  where  God  smiled  and 
there  was  no  war. 

I  peered  down  through  the  bars.  The  inn- 
keeper had  spoken  truly.  That  portion  of  the 
tavern  was  built  out  to  the  edge  of  a  precipice, 
and  some  distance  below  I  could  see  the  rocks. 


220  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

And  right  over  there  was  the  river  —  the  river 
where  I  had  rowed  her  to  safety.  Aye,  up  that 
river  I  had  toiled,  passing  this  very  inn  in  the 
darkness  of  a  stormy  night,  and  now  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  its  banks  she  had  betrayed 
me!  But  it  had  not  been  all  in  vain,  after  all, 
for  had  I  not  met  Mary  Wilmoth?  Ah,  'twas 
worth  the  toil  at  the  oars,  worth  betrayal  unto 
death  to  know  for  even  so  short  a  time  a  maid 
like  her.  Even  now  I  could  hear  her  voice  out 
in  the  moonlit  world  singing. 

"  My  lover  is  a  soldier  lad, 
King  George's  crown  he's  scorning." 

'Twas  a  pretty  conceit  of  my  fancy  and  I  gave 
myself  up  to  it,  and  then  I  forgot  the  song,  and 
worshipped  the  vision  the  moonlight  gave  me. 
Long  I  stood  there,  staring  at  Fancy's  picture, 
until  I  was  suddenly  aware  that  the  image  of  the 
Patriot  maid  had  faded,  and,  in  its  stead,  I  was 
kneeling  in  reverence  to  another  picture,  and  in 
the  image  was  the  glint  of  copper-tinted  tresses, 
the  haughty,  imperious  face  of  -  There  was  a 
burst  of  drunken  laughter  from  below,  and  up  the 
stairs  came  the  chorus  of  a  drinking  song.  I 
heard  my  guard  tramping  restlessly  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then  he  paused.  I  crept  to  the 


THE    SHADOW  221 

door  and  peeped  through  the  crevice.  It  was 
about  on  a  line  with  the  middle  of  the  hall  and 
gave  me  a  good  view.  I  could  see  the  candle 
resting  on  the  shelf  a  short  distance  down  the 
hall,  and  leaning  against  the  wall  was  the  imp 
who  guarded  me,  holding  in  his  hand  a  flask, 
which  I  saw  go  to  his  lips  often.  Again  the 
roisterers  below  raised  their  voices  in  carousal 
and  I  saw  the  guard  take  a  few  steps  towards  the 
stairway  and  stand  as  though  listening  to  his 
fellows. 

Then  my  gaze  wandered  past  him,  down  the 
hall,  to  where  the  shadows  lurked  about  Gayle 
Langford's  room,  and  I  was  about  to  turn  away 
when  I  felt  my  heart  leap,  and  an  exclamation 
reached  my  lips,  but  was  choked  there. 

Dimly  outlined  in  the  shadows  at  the  far  end 
of  the  hall  was  a  form.  I  strained  my  eyes. 
'Fore  God,  I  could  not  be  mistaken !  No !  It  was 
moving,  creeping  towards  me,  crouching  close  to 
the  wall,  but  steadily  creeping  nearer,  nearer, 
noiseless  as  some  spirit  from  the  pit  of  darkness. 
I  looked  towards  the  guard.  His  back  was  partially 
turned  towards  the  creeping  shadow,  and  he  was 
intent  on  hearing  the  carousal  of  his  mates. 

Almost  breathless,  and  with  my  heart  thumping 
against  my  ribs  till  it  seemed  it  must  be  heard, 


222  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

I  turned  to  watch  that  which  was  coming  out  of 
the  gloom.  And  now  the  faint  gleam  of  the  candle 
glanced  on  something  bright,  and  I  knew  it  to 
be  steel.  Man  it  was  that  was  creeping  out  of  the 
shadows !  That  I  could  now  tell,  though  the  head 
and  shoulders  were  so  muffled  in  a  cape  that  the 
features  could  not  be  seen.  But  in  his  hand  was 
a  naked  blade.  A  thrill  of  exultant  joy  shot  me 
through  and  through.  It  could  mean  but  one 
thing  —  an  attempt  to  rescue  me !  Where  that 
nameless  one  had  come  from  was  beyond  my 
ken,  but  from  out  of  the  night  help  was  creeping 
to  me.  Could  it  be  that  Rhymer  had  gained 
entrance  and  was  risking  his  life  for  mine? 

Fascinated,  I  knelt  there  in  the  darkness  and 
watched,  but  there  was  something  so  uncanny 
about  it  that  I  came  near  to  being  seized  with  a 
delirium  of  fear,  though  the  unknown  could  not 
mean  harm  to  me.  How  close  could  Tragedy 
creep  before  discovery?  Such  a  strain  my  nerves 
had  never  before  known,  and  God  grant  that  I 
may  never  again  be  called  upon  to  undergo  such 
moments  of  suspense. 

Only  about  fifteen  feet  now  separate  the  two 
in  the  hallway!  Closer,  closer!  Twelve  feet! 
The  cape  is  drawn  more  carefully  about  the  face, 
and  the  sword  arm  is  being  extended!  Ten  feet! 


THE   SHADOW  223 

Broth  o'  the  witches,  but  my  eyes  will  drop  out  of 
their  sockets  soon !  Another  outburst  from  below 
and  the  guard  turns. 

Like  a  flash  the  crouching  figure  leaps  forward, 
and  his  naked  blade  glitters  in  a  desperate  lunge. 
But  the  distance  is  a  fraction  too  great.  There  is 
a  wild  cry  of  alarm  from  the  guard  as  he  throws 
himself  aside  barely  in  time  to  escape  the  other's 
steel.  Then  as  the  Shadow  recovers,  the  guard 
draws  and  for  an  instant  they  pause,  but  only  for 
the  space  of  a  breath,  for,  lithe  as  a  panther,  the 
Shadow  springs  forward  once  more,  and  a  spark 
flies  from  the  clash  of  steel. 

Click!  Click!  Is-s-s-sh,  click!  How  they 
fought!  But  never  a  glimpse  of  the  face  of  the 
Shadow  could  I  get  for  the  low  drawn  hat  and  the 
folds  of  the  cape  draped  about  the  left  arm  and 
held  high.  He  was  only  a  youth;  that  I  could 
tell ;  but  that  he  was  the  better  sword  was  evident 
to  my  practised  eye  in  the  second  encounter,  and 
the  knave  of  a  guard  quickly  knew  it,  too,  for  he 
fought  on  the  defensive,  desperately  striving  to 
keep  that  circling,  flashing  blade  from  his  vitals, 
but  ever  it  played  closer  and  closer,  until  the  look 
of  horror  on  the  cutthroat's  face  as  I  saw  it  once 
in  the  candle-light  told  me  that  already  he  felt 
the  hand  of  death  clutching  at  him.  That  the 


224  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

cry  of  alarm  had  not  been  heard  below  was  evi- 
dent, for  the  carousing  continued.  Could  the 
youth's  strength  but  last  'twould  soon  end,  but 
now  the  guard  raised  his  voice  again  and  again  in 
wild  screams.  They  were  his  death-signal. 
Desperately  the  Shadow  thrust,  parried,  and 
lunged.  The  drunken  howls  below  ceased.  In  a 
moment  they  would  be  pouring  up  the  stairs, 
and  I  —  dolt !  —  had  been  kneeling  spellbound 
at  the  crevice.  The  chair!  With  a  bound,  I  had 
clutched  it,  and  then,  rushing  back,  I  swung  it 
with  all  of  my  strength  against  the  panels  of  the 
door.  Crash!  Crash!  A  jagged,  splintered  hole 
showed,  and  as  I  swung  the  chair  aloft  for  another 
blow  my  gaze  passed  through  the  splintered  panel 
and  saw  the  Shadow's  sword  suddenly  flash  past 
the  other's  guard  ;  there  was  a  scream  of  agony, 
and  the  knave,  clutching  at  his  breast,  reeled  and 
plunged  face  downward  to  the  floor,  but  even  as 
he  was  reeling,  the  Shadow  had  sprung  past  him 
and  was  working  desperately  with  the  key.  I 
dropped  the  chair  and  seized  the  knob,  only  to 
find  a  flood  of  maledictions  crowding  my  tongue 
as  I  realized  after  a  moment  of  endeavor  that  my 
blows  had  sprung  the  lock  and  the  key  would  not 
turn.  And  now  there  was  a  rush  of  feet  below, 
and  I  heard  the  stair  door  below  swung  open. 


THE    SHADOW  225 

"Out  of  the  way,  friend!"  I  cried.  "The 
lock  is  sprung,  but  I'll  batter  it  down!  " 

Even  as  I  spoke  I  was  swinging  the  heavy  chair 
aloft.  There  was  not  a  word  from  the  Shadow, 
but  through  the  broken  panel  I  saw  the  unknown 
whirl  and  dash  back  down  the  hallway,  sweeping 
the  candle  from  the  shelf  with  his  sword  as  he 
passed.  But  his  purpose  of  plunging  the  hall 
into  darkness  failed,  for  the  blaze  clung  to  the 
candle-wick  in  spite  of  the  fall,  and  the  candle 
lay  spluttering  on  the  floor. 

I  paused  not  to  watch  the  flight  of  the  Shadow, 
but  attacked  the  door  with  all  of  the  strength 
my  desperation  gave  me.  Alas!  'Twas  all  in 
vain,  that  gallant  fight  by  the  Shadow  and  my 
hammering  of  the  door,  for  into  the  hall  sprang 
the  rest  of  the  gang.  I  dropped  my  chair  and 
almost  sobbed  in  my  despair. 

"  Furies  o'  hell!  What  means  this?  "  shouted 
the  foremost,  snatching  up  the  candle  from  the 
floor  and  looking  about. 

There  was  a  groan  from  my  late  guard,  and 
they  were  quickly  at  his  side  and  raising  his  head. 
Then  they  saw  the  splintered  door. 

"  The  damned  rebel  has  escaped!  Quick,  which 
way  did  he  go?  "  cried  the  leader. 

In  the  darkness  of  my  prison  I  crouched  and 


226  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

harked  to  it  all,  peering  out  through  the  splintered 
panels. 

"  Speak!  Curse  it,  man,  speak  before  you 
die!" 

The  wounded  man  slowly  raised  one  hand  and 
pointed  down  the  hall. 

"  There!  Into  —  that  room  —  at  the  end  —  !  " 

"  Not  that  room,  man!  Not  that  room!  'Tis 
the  girl's  room!  Think  again!  "  And  he  poured 
whiskey  down  his  throat. 

"  I  am  —  certain.  I  saw  —  him  —  the  —  can- 
dle on  —  the  —  floor.  That  room!  " 

One  of  them  had  come  to  my  room  and  was 
working  at  the  door. 

"  Why,  this  door  is  still  locked!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  It  wasn't  the  —  rebel  —  He's  still  — 
there  —  The  devil  sent  —  an  —  imp  from  — 
the  dark.  And  —  there!"  Again  the  trembling 
hand  pointed  down  the  hall. 

With  a  curse,  they  dropped  the  dying  man  and 
rushed  pell-mell,  candles,  swords,  and  pistols  in 
hand,  down  the  hall,  where  they  seized  the  knob 
of  Gayle  Langford's  door.  Finding  it  locked, 
they  beat  on  the  panels  with  pistol  butts  until  I 
thought  those  panels,  too,  would  be  shat- 
tered. 

"  Ho,  within!    Ho,  there!  "     They  shouted. 


THE   SHADOW  227 

"  In  mercy's  name,  gentlemen,  what  causes 
such  uproar?  "  came  the  response  I  knew  to  be 
Gayle  Langford's. 

"  Open  at  once  or  we'll  break  in!  "  commanded 
the  leader. 

"  How  dare  you  be  so  insulting!  "  flashed  back 
the  reply  in  her  haughtiest  tone.  "  I  am  dressing, 
and  he  who  dares  to  force  an  entrance  will  find 
a  hot  bullet  awaiting  him." 

"  But  you  had  better  hurry.  There  may  be  an 
assassin  hiding  in  your  room." 

A  half -suppressed  scream  came  from  beyond  the 
door. 

"  In  a  moment  —  just  a  moment!  "  she  said, 
tremulously. 

But  almost  as  she  spoke  I  heard  the  key  click 
in  the  lock,  the  door  swung  open,  and  in  the 
candle-light  she  stood  before  them  all,  her  clothing 
but  illy  arranged,  her  hair  tumbling  as  though  she 
had  just  sprung  from  her  bed,  but  with  it  all  she 
was  the  proud,  imperious  daughter  of  Peter  Lang- 
ford,  the  aristocrat,  and  the  flash  of  her  eyes 
commanded  even  them  who  confronted  her. 

"  And  now  may  I  be  given  an  explanation?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Our  mate  on  guard  at  the  rebel's  door  has 
been  done  to  death"  (I  saw  the  girl  clasp  her 


228  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

hands  as  though  in  fear  or  horror  at  the  tragedy), 
"  and  he  swears  that  the  fellow  came  into  this 
room." 

"  Father  of  mercy!  Do  search  quickly!  But, 
pshaw!  The  poor  fellow  was  mistaken,  for  my 
door  was  locked." 

"  But  he  vows  —  " 

"  Delirium  distorts,  you  know.  You  can  see 
there  is  not  a  closet  in  the  room,  and  if  he  is  not 
under  the  bed  "  (I  saw  them  stoop  and  peer 
around)  "he  is  not  here.  That  window  will 
not  raise,  for  I  tried  it  when  I  retired,  so  he  could 
not  have  unlocked  my  door,  locked  it  again,  and 
then  jumped  out  of  the  window." 

One  of  the  men  advanced  farther  into  the  room, 
and  a  moment  later  I  heard  him  saying,  "  The 
girl's  right.  The  window  is  stuck  fast." 

"  The  —  the  —  man  —  must  have  dodged  down 
this  hallway,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Two  of  you  go  back  to  the  rebel's  cage,  and 
the  rest  follow  me,"  was  the  chief's  command, 
and  they  obeyed. 

Holding  their  candles  high,  and  peering  nerv- 
ously this  way  and  that  as  though  fearful  that 
some  sudden  Terror  would  pounce  upon  them, 
they  came  slowly  back  down  the  hall,  and  actuated 
by  a  sudden  impulse  of  humor,  I  placed  my  lips 


THE    SHADOW  229 

close  to  the  shattered  panel,  gave  the  door-knob 
a  vicious  rattle,  and  shouted: 

"  Hands  up,  you  dogs!  " 

The  effect  was  all  I  could  have  wished.  The 
candle  clattered  to  the  floor,  and  so  near  were 
they  ready  to  swoon  with  fright  that  one  jerked 
the  trigger  of  his  pistol  and  sent  a  ball  into  the 
floor.  The  sense  of  humor  has  ever  been  a  saving 
grace  with  me,  and  it  came  to  the  relief  of  my 
overtaxed  nerves  now  and  sent  me  rolling  in  a 
paroxysm  of  laughter. 

The  shot  recalled  the  others,  and  I  heard  them 
coming  down  the  hall  on  the  run. 

"  What  now?  " 

I  peered  out  through  the  splintered  panel  once 
more.  The  mystified  and  demoralized  twain  had 
recovered  the  candle  and  were  standing  and 
looking  about  as  though  ready  to  bolt  and  run  at 
the  next  alarm. 

"  The  cursed  place  is  haunted,"  replied  one. 
"  I'll  swear  I  heard  —  " 

"  And  so  did  I,"  broke  in  the  other.  "  A  voice 
right  by  us  yelled  for  - 

"  But  who  fired  that  shot?  "  was  the  demand. 

They  looked  at  one  another  a  moment. 

"  Reckon  I  must  have,"  said  one,  at  last,  raising 
his  pistol  and  examining  it. 


23o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  But  what  were  you  shooting  at?  " 

That  this  man  was  complete  master  of  the  band 
was  evident.  His  words  came  sharp  and  cold, 
and  I  saw  the  culprit  drop  his  head  and  shift  his 
feet  uneasily. 

"  Nothing,  I  reckon.  You  see,  I  pulled  the 
trigger  by  accident.  Some  one  yelled,  and  —  " 

"  And  you  came  damned  near  shooting  your- 
self," finished  the  leader,  sarcastically.  "  But 
let's  see  after  our  mate  yonder." 

I  watched  them  come  to  the  fallen  one  and  bend 
over  him,  one  of  them  placing  a  flask  between  his 
lips.  The  leader  placed  his  hand  over  the  heart. 

"  Don't  waste  that  whiskey,"  he  said.  "  This 
man's  dead." 

The  heartless,  unconcerned  manner  of  the  fellow 
sent  a  shudder  through  me.  Hardened  as  I  was 
by  many  months  of  battle  and  bloodshed,  I  had 
never  before  seen  any  man  stand  in  the  presence 
of  death  without  softening  a  shade,  and  as  I 
harked  now  to  this  speech  I  drew  a  swift  mental 
picture  of  the  pleasure  the  speaker  would  take 
in  murdering  me.  Why  I  had  been  spared  this 
long  I  had  no  idea.  Something  the  girl  had 
whispered  had  saved  my  life,  though  for  how  long, 
I  had  no  way  of  judging,  and  I  was  not  to  be  left 
long  to  my  own  thoughts. 


THE   SHADOW  231 

"  Open  the  door  and  let's  take  a  look  at  that 
rebel." 

I  thought  it  time  to  speak. 

"  Thanks,"  I  called.  "  It's  monstrous  lone- 
some in  here  when  there's  so  much  doing  right 
close." 

The  rascals  were  working  at  the  lock  and  cursing 
at  every  twist,  until  finally  the  key  turned,  the 
door  swung  open,  and  I  stood  before  them,  my 
arms  folded,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  as 
calmly  as  I  could,  though,  in  truth,  I  kept  a  wary 
glance  on  all  of  them  lest  some  treacherous  thrust 
end  my  soldiering  then  and  there. 

"  Ah,  you  are  still  here,  I  see,"  said  the  spokes- 
man. 

"  Sorry  I  can't  lie  out  of  it,"  I  replied,  not 
moving  from  the  doorway. 

"  What  can  you  tell  us  of  this?  "  was  the 
demand,  his  finger  pointing  to  the  corpse. 

"  First  of  us  to  the  worms  —  and  the  hangman 
cheated!  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  But  who  did  it?  " 

"  I  wish  I  knew." 

The  earnestness  of  my  speech  convinced 
him  that  I  was  speaking  the  truth,  and  I 
saw  a  look  of  utter  perplexity  come  over  his 
face. 


232  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  It's  strange  where  the  devil's  imp  came  from 
and  how  he  escaped." 

"  But  now  that  he  has  escaped  —  and  I 
haven't  -  -  'twould  be  most  land  of  you  to  let 
me  finish  this  vexatious  night  peacefully  in 
bed." 

I  yawned  as  I  spoke,  for  now  that  the  excite- 
ment was  past  I  was  feeling  the  need  of  rest. 
The  leader  stood  scowling  at  me  for  some  time 
without  speaking,  and  I  knew  that  he  was  wres- 
tling with  my  fate  as  his  problem,  but  at  last  he 
ordered  me  back  into  the  room  where  I  had  been, 
and  I  went  cheerfully,  not  caring  what  arrange- 
ments they  made  for  guarding  me.  I  was  worn 
out  and  wanted  only  to  rest  and  to  let  the  morrow 
bring  its  own  suggestions  to  me,  and  so  it  was 
that  when  they  closed  the  battered  door  behind 
me  I  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  peek  out  through 
the  holes  to  see  what  they  did.  Instead,  I  threw 
myself  on  the  bed  and  soon  was  sleeping  soundly, 
sleeping  as  only  a  wearied  man  could  to  whom 
stirring  adventures  were  no  uncommon  thing. 

My  slumber  was  unbroken  until  I  felt  a  rough 
hand  on  my  shoulder  and  I  opened  my  eyes  to 
see  that  it  was  broad  day.  Two  of  the  knaves 
were  standing  by  my  bed. 

"  Lor',  we  thought  ye  was  dead,  ye  was  that 


THE   SHADOW  233 

hard  to  wake,"  said  one.  "  Jest  ye  huff  yerself 
out  o'  that  bed  an'  come  with  us." 

"  Come  where?  " 

By  this  time  I  was  fully  awake  and  was  rising 
from  the  bed. 

"  Goin'  ter  put  ye  in  another  room — the 
wench's  room,"  he  added,  winking  at  his  mate. 

I  stared  at  them,  and  the  look  that  must  have 
been  on  my  face  caused  them  mirth,  for  they 
chuckled. 

"  Thought  he'd  look  better  pleased,  even  if  she 
is  Tory,  didn't  ye,  Bill?  " 

"  Can't  never  tell  how  these  lace  an'  ruffles 
fellers  feels  by  the  way  they  looks,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  exclaimed  the  first,  when  I 
told  them  I  was  ready.  "  We're  goin'  to  take  ye 
to  another  room,  an'  if  ye  try  to  give  us  the  leg 
ye'll  find  a  heap  o'  lead  scorchin'  yer  ribs."  He 
held  up  his  cocked  pistol  as  he  spoke. 

"  Then  I'll  not  try  to  run,"  I  answered. 

Each  took  hold  of  an  arm,  and  with  drawn 
pistols  they  marched  me  out  into  the  hall.  In- 
stantly my  eyes  sought  the  room  at  the  far  end. 
The  door  was  open,  and  for  some  reason  I  was 
glad.  I  glanced  towards  the  stairway.  Both  saw 
the  look  and  their  grasp  tightened  on  my  arm, 
while  their  pistols  were  raised  threateningly. 


234  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Don't  try  it!  " 

I  laughed.  "  Not  I  —  with  the  promise  of 
your  lead." 

They  shoved  me  rather  roughly  into  the  room 
lately  occupied  by  Gayle  Langford  and  pulled 
the  door  shut  behind  us.  I  glanced  about  the 
room.  The  bed  was  neatly  made  up  and  there 
was  not  a  sign  that  it  had  been  occupied  recently. 
Besides  the  bed,  there  was  no  article  of  furniture 
save  two  chairs  in  the  room. 

"  Ye'll  spend  the  day  —  maybe  longer  —  here, 
so  get  comfortable,"  said  one.  "An'  as  I'm  to 
stay  in  the  room  to  see  that  ye  don't  fall  out  the 
window,  ner  nothin'  like  that,  I'll  jest  take  a  chair 
myself." 

He  sat  down  in  one  corner  near  the  door,  and 
rested  his  pistol  on  his  lap,  and  his  companion, 
after  a  brief  whispered  conference  with  him,  left 
the  room.  I  walked  to  the  one  window  and 
looked  out  on  the  plaza  in  front  of  the  inn,  the 
Philadelphia  road  lying  just  beyond.  One  of  the 
panes  of  glass  in  the  window  was  broken,  evidently 
recently. 

"  It  seems  to  have  been  a  disastrous  night  for 
mine  host's  property,"  I  said,  pointing  to  the 
jagged  piece  of  glass  sticking  in  the  sash. 

"  The  wench  did  that  this  morning.    Upset  a 


THE    SHADOW  235 

chair  against  it  somehow.  Tried  to  catch  the 
chair  and  ripped  a  gash  into  her  hand.  It  bled 
like  fury,  but  she  laughed  about  it.  Devilish 
shame  to  let  a  wench  like  that  go  away  without  a 
good  lovin'." 

At  that  moment  I  saw  several  horses  being  led 
around  to  the  plaza,  and  I  caught  my  breath  a 
little  sharply,  I  suspect,  when  I  observed  a  side- 
saddle on  one  of  the  beasts,  and  then  out  of  the 
inn  came  the  riders,  the  gang  of  cutthroats 
with  Gayle  Langford  in  their  midst,  and  her 
merry  laugh  was  sounding  above  the  babble  of 
rough  raillery. 

"  Ain't  it  a  cussed  shame  to  be  stuck  here  while 
the  rest  of  'em  hits  the  road  for  Philadelphia?  " 

My  guard  was  standing  close  behind  me,  but 
as  I  looked  around,  I  saw  the  pistol  pointing 
menacingly  towards  me.  I  made  no  answer,  but 
turned  once  more  to  the  window.  I  saw  the 
leader  nod  towards  the  hostler,  and  the  animal 
with  the  side-saddle  was  led  to  where  the  girl 
stood.  The  leader  bowed  to  her,  offered  his  hand 
as  a  stirrup,  and  the  next  moment  she  had  sprung 
lightly  to  the  saddle.  She  looked  bewitching  in 
the  morning  sunlight,  sitting  her  horse  as  easily 
and  gracefully  as  she  would  have  sat  in  one  of 
the  Langford  parlor  chairs,  and  now  as  she 


236  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

gathered  up  the  reins  I  noticed  for  the  first  time 
that  a  band  of  white  was  about  her  left  hand. 
The  others  swung  into  their  saddles,  and  as  the 
girl's  horse  suddenly  backed  and  whirled,  as 
though  a  result  of  the  confusion,  she  was  brought 
facing  squarely  towards  my  window.  It  was  for 
only  an  instant,  but  in  that  breath  her  eyes  had 
been  raised  and  they  flashed  a  look  directly  into 
mine  as  I  stood  pressing  my  face  against  the  glass. 
At  the  same  instant  she  raised  her  left  hand 
slightly  and  then  dropped  it  quickly  to  the  reins. 
'Twas  a  brief  gesture,  but  I  noted  that  the  bandage 
about  her  hand  was  stained  with  red,  and  I  would 
have  sworn  that  the  look  and  the  raising  of  the 
hand  were  not  mere  chances.  They  were  purposely 
given,  I  was  sure. 

Then  they  rode  away,  the  girl  and  the  chief 
bringing  up  the  rear,  and  as  they  started,  Gayle 
Langford's  mount  seemed  seized  with  a  sudden 
desire  to  dash  away  to  the  left.  Then  she  clutched 
the  reins  in  her  right,  and  swung  the  animal 
back  towards  her  evil  companion,  but  as  she  did 
so  I  saw  her  left  hand  drop  to  her  skirt  and  a 
red-stained  kerchief  fluttered  from  the  hand  to  the 
ground.  This  was  not  seen  by  her  companion, 
for  the  girl  had  regained  control  of  her  horse  and 
had  cut  him  with  the  whip,  sending  him  thunder- 


THE    SHADOW  237 

ing  away,  with  the  astonished  knave  riding  hard 
to  keep  at  her  horse's  heels. 

"  Those  precious  friends  of  yours  are  apt  to  run 
into  a  squad  of  Continental  soldiers  on  that  road," 
I  said,  turning  to  my  jailer. 

"  Which  is  the  reason  they  will  leave  it  a  little 
farther  on  and  take  another  road  to  town." 

He  grinned  complacently  as  he  gave  me  this 
reply.  I  tramped  the  floor  awhile,  the  fellow 
watching  me  closely,  and  always  when  I  glanced 
at  him  I  saw  the  muzzle  of  his  pistol  covering  me, 
until  finally  I  threw  myself  on  the  bed  and  gave 
myself  up  to  bitter  reflections.  And  the  face  of 
Gayle  Langford  looked  at  me  from  the  walls, 
the  ceiling,  the  air  —  looked  at  me  and  scoffed 
at  me ;  looked  at  me  and  smiled  at  me ;  looked  at 
me  and  baffled  me.  Was  there  ever  such  a  living 
enigma  as  this  little  Tory?  Why  did  she  cause 
her  horse  to  shy  away  at  the  start?  and  why  did 
she  drop  the  kerchief  from  her  wounded  hand? 
Pah!  What  was  the  use  of  trying  to  fathom  the 
subtleties  of  the  sex?  Like  a  will-o'-the-wisp 
they  led  one  on  with  their  vagaries  and  allurements 
until  one  found  quicksand  beneath  one's  feet, 
and  then  each  succeeding  struggle  plunged  the 
poor  fool  the  deeper,  while  still  the  face  of  the 
woman  danced  about  in  his  brain  —  or  was  it 


238  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

really  glowing  out  there  —  there !  —  over  there !  — 
now  up  there !  —  now  over  here !  —  there !  — 
there!  —  there? 

There  was  a  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
guard,  and  as  I  looked  at  him  I  saw  that  he  was 
listening  intently.  I  came  to  my  feet,  also,  for  in 
my  ears  was  a  distant  and  faint  thud,  thud,  thud! 
The  guard  sprang  to  the  window  and  stood  for  a 
moment  with  his  ear  close  to  the  broken  pane. 
Then  he  turned  to  me. 

"  Horses  —  on  the  gallop,  too,  by  God!  " 

It  was  true.  The  pounding  of  the  hoofs  was 
unmistakable  now.  That  the  guard  realized  the 
possibilities  of  it  was  evident  by  the  uneasy  look 
he  turned  on  me,  but  unmindful  of  his  ugly  pistol, 
I  pushed  my  way  in  front  of  him  and  pressed  my 
face  to  the  glass  again,  straining  to  catch  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  horsemen  riding  so  furiously  from 
Philadelphia  way.  Behind  me,  peering  over  my 
shoulder,  was  the  guard,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  road. 
Then  I  gasped  with  delight,  for,  sweeping  into 
view  came  a  squad  of  cavalry  in  the  buff  and  blue 
of  the  Continental  army. 

I  felt  the  cold  muzzle  of  the  pistol  against  my 
temple,  and  the  voice  of  the  guard  came  to  me, 
hoarse  and  raspingly: 

"  Down  on  your  knees,  an'  if  ye  make  a  move 


THE   SHADOW  239 

or  a  sound  I'll  splatter  your  brains  over  this 
room!  " 

There  was  no  choice.  I  went  to  my  knees,  my 
eyes  just  clearing  the  window-sill.  I  looked  into 
the  eyes  of  the  knave  standing  over  me  and  what 
I  saw  there  sent  a  chill  to  my  heart.  He  had 
drawn  away  from  the  window,  but  we  could  both 
see  without  being  seen.  I  heard  a  word  of  com- 
mand and  the  pace  was  slackened,  and  now  I 
could  see  that  riding  with  the  troopers  was  a 
negro  boy  —  Putnam,  by  the  heavens !  And 
there  was  another  not  in  uniform.  Surely  it  was  — 
yes,  he  turned  his  head  just  then  —  it  was  Boyd. 
What  did  it  mean?  Of  a  truth,  I  was  believing 
just  then  that  it  meant  death  for  me. 

At  a  brisk  trot  the  little  squad  turned  from 
the  road  and  rode  up  to  the  inn.  I  saw  them 
draw  rein  and  the  innkeeper  hurry  out  to  meet 
them. 

"  Keep  down!  "  snarled  my  guard. 

Crouching  thus,  I  could  not  see  the  scene 
below,  but  through  the  broken  window  I  heard 
the  sound  of  voices,  though  I  could  not  distin- 
guish the  words.  Then  there  was  a  clatter  of 
horses'  hoofs  again. 

"  Good!  "  breathed  the  guard. 

I  dared  to  risk  raising  my  head  a  trifle,  and 


240  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

saw  the  squad  striking  spurs  and  riding  away 
towards  Valley  Forge  while  the  innkeeper  stood 
waving  his  hand  in  that  direction.  I  almost 
groaned  in  my  despair.  Putnam  was  riding 
ahead  now,  and  Boyd,  who  had  lingered  to  adjust 
his  saddle  girth,  was  spurring  after  them  when  I 
saw  him  suddenly  draw  rein  and  spring  to  the 
ground.  Then  he  picked  up  something  and 
shouted  to  his  companions.  His  cry  was  heard, 
and  as  the  troopers  turned  in  their  saddles,  Boyd 
waved  aloft  something  white  and  red-stained. 
Then  back  came  those  blessed  fellows.  Below 
stairs  I  heard  doors  slamming  violently.  In 
front,  Boyd  was  pointing  to  the  blood-stained 
handkerchief  and  then  to  the  inn,  and  I  saw 
hands  going  to  pistol  holsters. 

"  Damn  ye  —  they'll  have  to  dig  a  grave  for 
ye,  now!  " 

The  rascal's  eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  I  closed 
my  eyes  as  he  swung  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol 
towards  my  head. 

"  Don't  shoot!    Are  ye  crazy,  man?  " 
The  cry  came  from  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  and 
we  saw  the  innkeeper  running  towards  us. 
"Crazy?  Yes, — to  kill  this  damned  rebel!" 
"  And  have  the  soldiers  here  in  a  trice  at  the 
sound  of  the  shot?     Man,  ye'd  hang  us  both! 


THE    SHADOW  241 

Hold  that  gun  on  him  while  I  bind  his  hands. 
There!  Now  this  pillow-slip  into  his  mouth,  so. 
I've  bolted  the  doors  below.  That'll  stop  'em  for 
a  minute.  We  can  get  out  the  back  way  to  the 
stables.  They'll  all  rush  into  the  house  in  front. 
Run  for  it!  " 

The  knave  with  the  pistol  saw  the  weight  of 
the  landlord's  words,  for  even  as  the  one  was  bind- 
ing my  hands  the  other  was  gagging  me  with  a 
pillow-slip,  and  then  they  dashed  out  of  the  room, 
only  pausing  to  turn  the  key  in  the  lock.  Even 
then  I  heard  a  pistol-butt  beating  on  the  door 
below.  I  got  to  my  feet  and  ran  to  the  window  as 
there  came  a  crash,  and  I  knew  the  door  had 
been  forced.  Below,  I  could  hear  the  soldiers 
running  through  the  rooms,  jerking  tables  and 
chairs  about,  and,  kicking  out  the  sash  of  the 
window,  I  hurried  back  to  the  door  and 
began  kicking  at  it.  Up  the  stairs  I  could 
hear  them  coming,  and  my  heart  leaped  with 

joy. 

"  Who  is  in  there?  "  came  the  challenge. 

'Twas  impossible  for  me  to  reply,  but  I  kicked 
at  the  door  harder  than  ever. 

"  There's  no  key  here,"  I  heard  a  voice  say, 
and  then  came  the  call:  "  Stand  aside,  in  there. 
We'll  smash  the  door." 


242  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Then  came  the  impact  of  heavy  bodies  against 
the  door,  once,  twice;  it  yielded;  into  the  room 
poured  men  in  the  uniform  I  loved,  and  with  them 
was  Richard  Boyd. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   MESSAGE   IN   RED 

IT  ofttimes  chances  in  the  telling  of  a  tale  that 
one  must  take  that  told  by  others  and  weave 
it  in,  and  so  I  must  at  this  point  tell  to  you 
that  which  was  told  to  me  by  my  friend,  Boyd, 
after  our  meeting  at  the  Red  Fox  inn. 

When  the  bells  sounded  the  tidings  of  inde- 
pendence on  July  fourth  Boyd  was  on  the  streets, 
but  towards  evening,  when  the  lawless  element 
began  to  hold  sway,  he  went  to  his  lodgings  and 
remained  there,  unconscious  of  the  tragedy  that 
was  visiting  the  house  of  his  former  friend,  Peter 
Langford.  He  heard  the  shouts  of  the  rabble, 
and  sorrowed  that  Patriots  would  have  to  blush 
for  the  evils  of  those  first  riotous  hours. 

I  had  promised  to  meet  him  at  the  Golden 
Lion  the  next  morning,  at  which  time  he  was  to 
be  ready  to  ride  with  me  to  Washington,  and  at 
the  appointed  hour  he  was  there,  ready  to  fare 
forth  into  the  new  life,  but  the  Captain  of  Con- 

243 


244  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

tinentals  did  not  appear.  Had  the  landlord  seen 
aught  of  him?  No,  the  Captain's  horse  was  still 
in  the  stable  and  he  had  not  showed  his  face 
about  the  inn  during  either  the  night  or  morning. 

Fuming  with  impatience,  Boyd's  suspicions 
soon  were  whispering  to  him.  That  Tory  maid  — 
and  the  rose!  Many  a  man  had  yielded  all  be- 
cause of  pink  flesh  and  a  smile!  Another  hour 
passed.  Exhausted  with  the  carousal  of  the 
night  before,  Philadelphia  was  abnormally  quiet 
that  morning,  and  the  calm  irritated  Boyd. 

Standing  before  the  inn,  he  suddenly  smote 
fist  to  palm  and  then  started  briskly  in  the 
direction  of  the  Langford  residence.  Every- 
where were  groups  discussing  the  Declaration, 
and  not  all  of  the  Patriots  believed  the  Congress 
had  chosen  wisely.  Reaching  the  entrance  to  the 
Langford  grounds,  he  paused  and  surveyed  the 
premises.  Not  a  sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen  about 
the  place,  but  the  front  doors  were  standing  open, 
and  he  strode  forward,  and  then  halted,  astounded, 
as  he  noted  that  the  massive  doors  were  battered 
and  hanging  awry  on  their  hinges.  At  the 
threshold  he  stood  uncertain,  bewildered,  and 
then  he  saw,  coming  down  the  great  hallway,  an 
old  negro,  his  hands  crossed  behind  his  back,  his 
head  bent  low,  and  his  steps  slow. 


A   MESSAGE   IN   RED          245 

"  Erasmus,"  he  called,  recognizing  the  servant. 

The  negro  stopped  and  raised  his  head. 

"  Yes,  suh,  yer  su'vent,  suh,"  and  Erasmus 
bowed. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Langford  I  wish  to  see  him." 

The  negro  advanced  slowly  to  the  door- 
way. 

"  I  cain't  tell  him,  suh  • —  I  cain't  tell  him 
nuffiri'  till  de  good  Lord  done  tell  ol'  'Rasmus  ter 
lay  aside  dis  ol'  body." 

"  You  mean  - 

"  I  means,  suh,  dat  Marse  Langford  done  leave 
dis  woiT.  He  died  yesterday." 

"Yesterday?     When?     How?" 

"  Jes'  when  dat  bell  ring  in  de  steeple  de  Lord 
He  lay  His  hand  on  Marse  Langford  an'  'twas 
all  over  in  a  bref  or  two,  suh,  —  only  a  bref  or 
two." 

Boyd  stood  silent  a  moment,  while  the  darky 
again  dropped  his  head,  and,  crossing  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  swayed  his  body  to  and  fro, 
muttering  unintelligible  words. 

"  And  what  of  his  daughter?  "  Boyd  asked,  at 
last. 

Erasmus  raised  his  head  and  looked  steadily 
at  the  questioner. 

"  'Scuse  me,  suh,  'scuse  me;  ol'  'Rasmus  don' 


246  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

want  ter  be  'pertinent,  suh,  but  I'se  'bleeged  ter 
ask  ye  whyfore  ye  ask  that?  " 

"  Oh,  for  no  reason,  especially.  Probably  I 
asked  the  wrong  question.  Listen,  did  you  see  a 
young  man,  a  stranger,  here  last  night?  —  you 
surely  remember  him,  Erasmus,  the  soldier  who 
gave  the  toast  to  Washington  at  the  banquet. 
Think,  did  you  see  him  last  night  or  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  What  ?    Marse  Ian  ?    Why  - 

But  the  negro  suddenly  clicked  his  jaws  to- 
gether and  stood  silent,  a  peculiar  light  shining 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  exclaimed  Boyd.  "  Ian  Lester,  a 
Patriot  soldier,  it  was.  Go  on,  Erasmus,  go  on. 
Where  is  he  now?  " 

There  was  no  reply  save  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  Well,  speak!    Is  he  here?    Can't  you  speak?  " 

Erasmus  uncrossed  his  hands  and  rested  them 
on  his  hips. 

"  Yes,  suh,  I  reckon  I  can  speak,  an'  I  speaks 
now,  suh.  Yes,  suh,  I  speaks  now  an'  tells  you 
dat  maybe  Marse  —  dat  man  —  is  hyar,  —  an' 
maybe  he  ain't  hyar.  Dar,  suh,  I  done  spoke." 

"Devil  take  you!"  blazed  Boyd.  "If  you 
don't  tell  me  where  he  is  I'll  make  ribbons  of  your 
black  hide! " 


A   MESSAGE   IN   RED          247 

"  Mebbe  so,  suh,  mebbe  so.  But  dis  ol'  man 
ain't  gwine  ter  tell  ye  nuffin ',  suh,  if  ye  ties  dem 
ribbons  tergedder  befo'  my  eyes.  Ye  done  knows 
him,  suh,  an'  I  cain't  save  him  by  lyin',  but  de 
sweet  ol'  Missus  she  a-peepin'  down  from  up  in 
de  skies,  an'  I  hear  her  whisperin'  to  ol'  Rassle  — 
dat  what  he  call  me  —  '  Don'  ye  let  'em  cotch 
my  boy,  Rassle,  don'  ye  do  it  if  ye  die.'  An'  I 
ain't  gwine  ter  tell  ye  nuffin',  suh,  'bout  dat 
boy  —  dat  li'l '  Marse  Ian  what  I  ca'y  on  my 
back." 

As  he  spoke  the  old  man's  face  was  raised 
higher  and  higher  until  he  was  looking  up  towards 
heaven,  and  his  arms  were  outstretched  as  though 
reaching  towards  some  one  above.  Boyd  felt  a 
sudden  moisture  in  his  eyes,  and  his  hand 
fell  on  the  servant's  shoulder  with  a  kindly 
grip. 

"  Why,  God  bless  your  faithful  old  heart,  I 
don't  understand  all  that  you  are  saying,  but  I 
understand  that  you  are  trying  to  shield  Captain 
Lester  from  his  enemies.  It  is. glorious  of  you, 
but  I  am  his  friend  —  and  I  am  seeking  him.  Tell 
me,  now,  where  can  I  find  him?  " 

The  old  man  suddenly  lowered  his  arms  until 
they  were  on  a  level  with  the  other's  head,  his 
hands  partly  raised  near  Boyd's  face,  and  between 


248  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

his  hands  he  peered  long  and  searchingly  at  the 
man  before  him. 

"  Marse  lan's  friend?  His  friend?  How  come  it, 
suh?  How  come  it?  I'se  a  poor  ol'  niggah,  suh, 
but  don'  lie  ter  me  dat  ye  are  Marse  lan's  friend 
if  ye  ain't.  Don'  do  it,  suh;  don'  do  dat!  " 
There  was  a  pathetic  note  of  pleading  in  his 
voice. 

Boyd  urged  and  argued  and  swore  his  friend- 
ship, and  finally  Erasmus  led  the  way  to  the 
reception-room  and  recited  to  him  the  events 
following  the  death  of  Peter  Langford. 

"  De  servants  all  done  run  away,  suh,  an'  I 
ain't  seen  none  of  'em  since.  I'se  de  only  one 
what's  left  ter  care  fer  de  ol'  Missus  Langford,  suh. 
She  done  come  home  dis  mornin'  an'  ol'  Rasmus 
de  only  one  hyar  ter  tell  her  dat  Marse 
Langford  dead.  She  up-stairs  now  wif  dat  poor 
clay." 

"  And  you  have  no  idea  where  Lester  has 
gone?  " 

"  No,  suh,  but  he  was  er  fightin'  fer  de  sweet 
young  Missy  when  I  seed  him  last,  an'  I  hears  de 
trash  say  dey  done  'scape  by  a  winder,  an'  den 
de  trash  runs  all  over  de  house  an'  steals  all  dey 
can  carry,  but  when  dey  comes  ter  Marse  Lang- 
ford's  body  I  tells  'em  de  wrath  o'  God  gwine  ter 


A   MESSAGE   IN  RED         249 

git  'em  if  dey  tech  him,  an'  den  dey  swears  an 
goes  away." 

"  And  no  trace  of  Lester  to  be  found!  "  Boyd 
was  tramping  the  floor. 

"  No,  suh,  but  Marse  Ian  fight  fer  de  young 
Missy,  an'  Marse  Ian  he  gwine  ter  keep  her  safe 
an'  bring  her  back  bimeby.  He  gwine  ter  bring 
her  back  safe." 

He  walked  slowly  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  as  though  expecting  to  see  his  Marse  Ian 
leading  the  girl  up  to  the  house  at  that 
moment. 

Boyd  left  the  house  soon  afterwards  and  spent 
the  day  hovering  about  the  Golden  Lion.  The 
hours  dragged  by  wearily  for  him,  but  he  waited 
until  near  sunset  before  again  calling  at  the  Lang- 
ford  place.  Friends  of  the  family  were  in  evidence 
now,  their  gorgeous  equipages  being  drawn  up  in 
front  of  the  house.  He  was  well  known  to  many 
of  them,  and  to  him  the  Tories  were  bitter  in  their 
ragings  against  the  work  of  the  mob,  and  in  all 
sincerity  he  agreed  with  them.  Woe  had  come 
to  the  place,  of  a  surety,  —  the  master  dead,  the 
daughter  driven  to  flight  and  still  strangely  miss- 
ing, the  doors  battered  down,  and  the  rooms 
pillaged.  Seeing  Erasmus  passing  down  the 
hallway,  Boyd  hurried  after  him,  and  drawing 


GAYLE   LANGFORD 

him  into  a  secluded  corner,  he  looked  him  full  in 
the  face. 

"  Well?  "  he  said. 

The  servant  shook  his  head.  "  Only  de  good 
Lord  knows  what  become  o'  Marse  Ian'  an'  da 
young  Missy.  Only  de  good  Lord  knows,  'cause 
we  ain't  heerd  er  whisper  from  'em  —  not  er 
whisper." 

Boyd  pondered  a  moment.  "  And  the  Prince  — 
what  of  him?  " 

"  Dat  man  he  don'  let  himself  be  foun'  when 
de  ragin'  debils  came  batterin'  at  de  doors,  but 
to-day  he  done  come  snufflin'  an'  a-moanin' 
aroun'  whar  de  ol'  Missus  be,  an'  he  tell  her  how 
he  gwine  ter  miss  ol'  Marse  Langford,  an'  how  he 
jes'  a  quiverin'  fer  to  go  out  an'  fight  a  passel  o' 
rebels  an'  bring  Missy  Gayle  back." 

The  contempt  of  the  servant  for  the  Hessian 
was  so  overpowering  that  even  his  lifetime  of 
training  as  a  vassal  who  had  no  right  to  think 
was  swept  away. 

"  Does  he  know  that  Captain  Lester  took  the 
girl  away? " 

"  I'se  most  suhten  he  does,  suh,  but  he  let  on 
like  he  not  hyar  when  de  mob  come.  But  he  tell 
ol'  Missus  dat  he  jus'  know  dat  rebel  Captain  egg 
de  mob  on  ter  smash  in  so  he  could  steal  de 


A   MESSAGE   IN   RED          251 

young  Missy.  O  Lord,  if  Marse  Ian  ever  hear  o' 
dat  he  gwine  ter  stick  er  sword  through  dat  man 
fer  such  scan'lous  talk.  An'  ol'  'Rasmus  had 
ter  rassle  wid  de  spirit  when  he  heerd  him  say 
dem  words,  fer  dese  ol'  black  hands  jest  natch'lly 
kept  er  jerkin'  an'  er  jerkin'  fer  ter  choke  him." 

Boyd  returned  to  the  inn  and  again  began  the 
weary  wait.  Another  day  dawned,  but  no  news 
came  from  the  missing  ones,  and  in  the  evening 
when  he  called  at  the  Langford  place,  he  found 
Mrs.  Langford  in  a  state  of  well-bred,  fashionable 
hysterics  over  the  absence  of  the  daughter,  while 
the  Prince  stalked  about  the  place  swearing  that 
it  should  be  the  work  of  his  life  to  avenge  the 
Langford  wrongs.  The  body  of  Peter  Langford, 
after  being  prepared  for  burial,  was  resting  amid 
a  mocking  splendor,  the  funeral  being  postponed 
in  the  hope  that  some  tidings  could  be  learned 
of  the  missing  daughter.  The  authorities  had 
looked  profound  and  had  said,  "  Hah!  "  several 
times  when  the  story  of  Gayle  Langford 's  dis- 
appearance had  been  poured  into  their  ears,  but 
not  the  slightest  clue  could  be  obtained. 

It  was  the  following  morning  that  Boyd, 
racked  by  doubts  and  fears,  found  a  new  plan 
forming  in  his  mind,  the  idea  being  the  result  of 
seeing  a  trooper  riding  by.  Hurrying  to  the 


252  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

guard  headquarters,  he  sought  out  the  officer  in 
command  and  poured  into  his  ears  the  story  of 
the  disappearance  of  Captain  Lester,  courier  of 
his  Excellency,  General  Washington. 

The  effect  was  most  satisfactory.  Orders  were 
at  once  issued  to  every  squad  in  the  city  to  make 
diligent  search  for  the  missing  one,  and  troopers 
scoured  the  country  surrounding  Philadelphia,  but 
when  the  sun  went  down  on  the  evening  of  the 
seventh  of  July  there  were  no  tidings  of  the  lost 
ones.  Unable  to  remain  idle  longer,  Boyd 
mounted  his  horse  that  evening  and  joined  the 
squad  of  Wilmoth's  men,  and  again  every  con- 
ceivable nook  of  the  city  was  searched,  but  when 
the  first  cock  crew  just  before  the  dawn  the  little 
squad  of  troopers  sat  in  their  saddles  in  silent 
realization  of  defeat.  The  sergeant  broke  the 
silence  at  last. 

"Either  the  Captain  is  a  dead  man,    or- 
He  paused  and  looked  toward  Boyd. 

"  Or  what?  "  demanded  Boyd,  sharply,  seeing 
the  other  hesitate. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  the  man  to  blame  a  hot-blood 
for  forgetting  when  such  a  devilish  fetching 
wench  smiles." 

Boyd  made  no  reply.  He  was  seeing  again  a 
red  rose  on  a  satin  lapel,  and  the  flutter  of  a 


A   MESSAGE   IN   RED          253 

dainty  kerchief  from  the  gold-panelled  windows 
of  a  coach. 

"  Hark!  " 

One  of  the  men  had  spoken,  and  as  they 
quieted  their  stamping  mounts  and  kept  perfect 
silence  there  came  to  them  from  out  of  the 
distance  a  faint  thudding.  In  an  instant  one 
had  thrown  himself  from  his  saddle  and  had 
his  ear  to  the  ground. 

"  It's  a  horse,  and  it's  coming  like  hell!  "  he 
cried. 

A  few  hurried  words  of  command  and  the  squad 
was  spread  out,  fan-like,  to  intercept  the  oncom- 
ing animal,  whose  hoof -beats  were  now  be- 
coming plain. 

"  No  shooting  unless  you  have  to,"  commanded 
the  sergeant.  "If  he  doesn't  halt,  catch  the 
bridle  if  you  can.  If  not  —  shoot." 

There  was  something  ghost-like  about  it  all. 
Nearer  and  nearer  sounded  those  flying  hoofs, 
and  near  him  in  the  darkness  Boyd  could  see  here 
and  there,  troopers,  firm-seated,  reins  taut,  ready 
to  dash  after  the  unknown  one  if  he  got  by  them. 
Now  the  thunder  of  the  hoofs  sounded  almost  in 
their  midst,  but  the  pall  of  darkness  still  hid  the 
animal  from  view.  Only  a  moment  'twas  thus, 
and  then  from  out  of  the  gloom  they  saw  a  horse 


254  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

coming  on  at  a  furious  gallop,  and  indistinctly 
outlined  on  its  back  was  a  crouching  figure. 

"  Halt!  " 

No  answer,  and  no  slacking  of  the  headlong 
pace. 

"  Halt!    Halt,  or  we'll  fire!  " 

There  was  an  inarticulate  cry  from  the  figure 
on  the  horse's  back,  but  the  beat  of  the  iron-shod 
hoofs  never  slacked. 

"  Charge!  "  shouted  the  sergeant  as  the  strange 
rider  and  his  steed  came  abreast.  "  Catch  that 
bridle!" 

Spurs  sank,  and  there  was  a  wild  rush  of  steeds, 
a  bit  of  cursing,  a  howl  that  could  mean  naught 
but  terror,  and  the  man  who  had  withdrawn 
farthest  down  the  road  had  succeeded  in  clutching 
the  bridle  of  the  strange  horse  and  was  checking 
the  animal.  Then  they  all  came  riding  back  to 
where  the  sergeant  and  Boyd  sat  their  horses. 

"Here  he  is,  sergeant  —  a  little  nigger,  by 
the—  Hi!  Catch  him,  there!  " 

Like  a  flash,  the  figure  had  sprung  from  the 
horse's  back  and  had  made  a  dash  into  the  gloom, 
but  a  trooper  went  plunging  after  him,  and  soon 
came  dragging  him  back,  though  the  little  prisoner 
fought,  squirmed,  howled,  and  twisted  until  the 
rest  of  the  squad  roared  with  laughter. 


A   MESSAGE   IN   RED          255 

"  Where  in  the  name  of  Satan  were  you  going 
at  that  pace?  "  demanded  the  sergeant. 

"  Goin'  ter  de  city,"  was  the  sullen  reply. 

"  For  what?  " 

"  Fer  to  git  away,  suh." 

"  Away  from  what?    Come,  speak  out!  " 

"  From  de  debils  what  hopped  out  an'  'gin  ter 
shoot  dis  way  an'  dat  way  an'  ebery  which  way. 
Good  Lord,  dey  done  kill  ever'body  but  me,  I 
'spect!" 

"  And  who  are  you?  " 

"Me?  I'se  Putnam  —  Maj'h  Wilmoth's  Put- 
nam, suh." 

The  name  of  Wilmoth  was  magic  to  those  men, 
and  it  took  but  a  few  moments  to  convince  the 
little  negro  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  his  master's 
soldiers.  He  knew  the  uniform  and  shouted, 
"  Thank  de  Lord!  "  over  and  over  until  he  was 
hushed  and  told  to  give  his  story.  And  this  he 
did  in  a  blundering  sort  of  way.  He  told  of  the 
strange  man  and  the  strange  lady  coming  to  Wil- 
moth's home.  He  told  of  the  attack  on  the  party 
near  the  Red  Fox  inn  the  afternoon  previous,  and 
how,  in  the  general  confusion,  he  had  sprung  from 
the  chaise  and  rolled  into  a  hollow,  and  from 
there  he  had  crept  into  the  wood  and  hidden 
himself  until  there  were  no  longer  any  sounds  of 


256  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

the  fight,  and  then  he  had  started  to  crawl  back 
to  the  road,  but  the  sight  of  men  at  work  with 
shovels,  digging  trenches  for  the  dead,  had  caused 
him  to  again  seek  his  place  of  concealment,  where 
he  had  remained  hidden  until  night  had  fallen. 
What  had  been  the  fate  of  Major  Wilmoth  or 
Gayle  Langford  he  did  not  know. 

After  night  had  fallen  he  had  started  to  make 
his  way  on  foot  to  Philadelphia,  as  that  was 
closer  than  the  Wilmoth  home  at  Valley  Forge. 
He  lost  his  way  and  wandered  about  most  of  the 
night,  and  then,  coming  to  a  farmhouse  by  the 
main  road,  his  weariness  and  the  terrors  through 
which  he  had  passed  overcame  his  scruples  and  he 
crept  into  the  stable  and  led  out  a  horse.  Spring- 
ing to  its  back,  he  made  a  dash  for  Philadelphia 
to  spread  the  alarm. 

Despatching  a  courier  to  headquarters  with  the 
news,  the  sergeant  ordered  Putnam  to  lead  the 
way  back  over  the  road  he  had  come,  and  in  a  few 
moments  they  were  galloping  towards  the  scene 
of  the  ambush.  In  the  gray  of  dawn  they  searched 
the  spot,  but  there  was  nothing  but  patches  of 
fresh  dirt  to  be  found,  here  and  there,  and  even 
that  would  escape  ordinary  scrutiny  owing  to  the 
rocks  and  leaves  that  had  been  scattered  over 
the  graves  of  horses  and  men.  Then  it  was  mount 


A   MESSAGE   IN   RED          257 

and  away  once  more,  and  there  was  a  grim  pur- 
pose in  the  breasts  of  those  hardy  men  as  they 
galloped  up  to  the  Red  Fox  inn,  weapons  ready. 

But  the  wits  of  the  innkeeper  were  sharp  that 
morning.  Perceiving  the  soldiers  dashing  towards 
the  inn,  he  at  once  surmised  that  the  alarm  had 
spread,  and  his  cunning  came  to  his  rescue.  Im- 
petuously he  rushed  forward  to  meet  them  and 
forestalled  their  questions  by  wringing  his  hands 
and  asking  God's  blessing  on  them  for  their 
coming.  He  had  been  compelled  to  give  shelter 
to  a  band  of  ruffians,  who,  he  verily  believed,  had 
done  to  death  some  parties  unknown  to  him.  He 
could  give  no  details,  but  in  their  debauches  they 
had  hinted  at  murders.  And,  oh,  could  not  the 
brave  soldiers  follow  them  and  compel  them  to 
disgorge  the  money  they  had  stolen  from  him, 
his  savings  of  years?  They  had  not  been  gone 
long,  and  they  surely  could  be  overtaken  before 
they  reached  Valley  Forge.  Yes,  that  was  the 
way  they  had  gone  —  towards  Valley  Forge  — 
and,  doubtless,  there  would  be  other  murders  and 
other  robberies  soon  if  they  wrere  not  run  down. 

'Twas  a  clever  tale  and  most  glibly  told.  The 
men  were  wild  to  avenge  the  assault  on  Wilmoth  — 
mayhap  his  death.  Hands  were  clutching  pistol- 
butts  as  the  landlord  wailed  out  his  woeful  story, 


258  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

and  as  he  waved  his  hand  towards  Valley  Forge 
the  spurs  sank  without  word  of  command  from 
the  sergeant,  who  was  of  a  mind  to  search  the  inn, 
but  who  had  not  the  heart  to  recall  his  men.  And 
so  they  dashed  away  on  the  false  scent. 

As  Boyd  rode  after  them  his  eye  glimpsed  the 
kerchief  dropped  by  Gayle  Langford,  and  an 
impulse  caused  him  to  spring  from  his  saddle  and 
pick  it  up.  There  were  splotches  of  blood  on  it, 
and  he  was  about  to  cast  it  from  him  when  he 
noticed  that  some  of  the  blood  stains  formed 
letters.  With  a  shout,  he  recalled  the  soldiers 
and,  spreading  the  bit  of  cambric  on  the  saddle, 
Boyd  and  the  sergeant  picked  out  rude  letters, 
one  by  one,  until  they  found  the  startling  message : 

"  Search  inn." 

With  a  rush,  they  came  for  the  door  only  to  find 
it  barred.  Again  and  again  the  brawny  men 
threw  their  weight  against  the  door,  unheeding 
the  bruises,  until  the  barriers  gave  way  and  they 
poured  into  the  inn.  What  followed  I  have  told 
you  myself. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   KINDLING   OF   A   FLAME 

WHEN  Wilmoth's  men  reached  the  stables 
after  I  had  told  them  of  the  purpose 
of  the  innkeeper  and  the  knave  who 
had  guarded  me  they  found  the  horses  gone  and 
not  a  trace  of  the  precious  pair,  so  that  pursuit 
was  useless.  Then  they  came  back  up  the  stairs 
to  the  room  where  I  was  relating  my  adventures 
to  the  sergeant  and  Boyd,  but  for  some  reason 
unknown  even  to  myself  I  did  not  tell  them  that 
Gayle  Langford  had  occupied  the  room  we  then 
were  in. 

"  Mount,  men,  we  ride  to  Valley  Forge!  "  called 
the  sergeant. 

"  But  let's  fire  this  viper's  nest  before  we  go!  " 
exclaimed  one. 

The  sergeant  protested,  but  without  waiting 
for  word  from  his  superior,  the  trooper  had 
snatched  the  covers  from  the  bed,  and  had  the 

259 


26o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

tick  in  his  arms  ready  to  drop  it  on  the  floor, 
when  an  exclamation  from  Boyd  caused  me  to 
turn  from  the  window.  He  was  staring  at  the 
bed,  and  there  on  a  sheet  spread  over  the  bed- 
cords  I  saw  a  suit  of  youth's  clothing  and  beside 
the  clothing  a  naked  sword. 

"  A  pretty  place  to  hide  such  a  toy,"  said  the 
sergeant,  picking  up  the  blade,  while  Boyd  held 
up  the  clothing. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  sin  were  they  doing  under 
the  bedtick?  "  he  asked,  turning  towards  me. 

And  I?  My  head  was  bursting  with  the  blood 
my  thumping  heart  was  driving  through  my  veins. 
Great  God!  Could  it  really  be  true  that  the 
Unknown  who  fought  and  slew  the  guard  in  the 
hallway  had  run  into  this  room,  as  the  dying  man 
had  declared?  And  could  it  be —  ?  No!  No! 
My  brain  whirled.  But  'twas  a  mere  stripling, 
lithe  as  a  panther,  I  had  seen  fighting  in  the 
hallway!  And  they  had  searched  the  room  soon 
afterwards  and  declared  that  there  was  no  way 
of  escape  through  the  window. 

"  The  man's  near  to  a  stroke,"  said  the  sergeant 
as  I  stared  dazedly  at  the  cloak  and  small-clothes 
Boyd  held  before  me. 

"  Just  the  surprise,  Sergeant,  that's  all,"  I 
replied.  "  Had  I  known  that  blade  was  there  I 


KINDLING    OF    A    FLAME     261 

should  have  given  the  varlet  who  guarded  me 
some  rare  entertainment." 

Orders  were  given  that  there  must  be  no 
destruction  of  property,  and-  a  little  later  we  were 
mounted  and  pushing  on  towards  the  Wilmoth 
home.  I  was  given  one  of  the  soldier's  mounts 
while  he  bestrode  the  saddleless  horse  ridden  by 
Putnam,  who  perched  up  behind  the  trooper. 
Boyd  rode  by  my  side. 

"  Lester,"  said  he,  "do  you  know  whose 
kerchief  this  is?  "  He  held  out  the  blood-stained 
article  to  me. 

"  I  do.     It  is  Gayle  Langford's." 

"  God's  love!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  And  I  want  it,"  I  said,  tucking  it  into  my 
bosom. 

I  felt  his  eyes  on  me,  but  he  did  not  speak,  nor 
did  I.  In  the  course  of  time  we  pounded  up  to 
the  Wilmoth  place,  and  I  saw  Mary  Wilmoth 
standing  in  the  doorway.  A  moment  later  she 
came  flying  to  welcome  the  men  of  her  brother's 
command,  and  to  me  she  gave  her  hand  in  warm 
greeting,  and  I  bowed  over  the  fingers  and  then 
presented  Boyd.  To  us  she  gave  the  pleasing 
tidings  that  Major  Wilmoth  was  improving. 
The  iron  will  of  the  man  had  conquered  weakness 
to  the  extent  that  he  was  able  to  direct  mother 


262  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

and  sister  in  their  ministrations,  and  had  himself 
declared  the  wound  not  to  be  a  fatal  one. 

'Twas  God's  peace  to  sit  in  that  little  cottage 
and  hark  to  the  calm  tones  of  the  snowy-haired 
mother  as  we  discussed  the  plans  for  their  future, 
for  I  urged  that  they  should  leave  their  isolated 
farm  home  and  abide  in  Philadelphia. 

"  The  war  will  be  more  bitter  than  ever,"  I 
urged,  "  and  the  attack  near  the  Red  Fox  proves 
that  roving  bands  of  human  devils  are  beginning 
to  scour  the  country.  Murder  and  robbery  are 
not  the  worst  of  their  crimes.  Think  of  - 

There  was  a  burst  of  merry  laughter  from  the 
yard,  where  Boyd  and  Mary  were  strolling.  I 
paused  and  glanced  at  Wilmoth.  His  eyes  met 
mine. 

"  You  are  right,  Captain,"  he  replied. 

And  so  it  was  settled  that  they  should  go  on  the 
morrow.  The  soldiers  set  to  work  to  construct 
a  suitable  litter  for  their  wounded  commander, 
and  I  agreed  to  remain  and  see  them  off,  after 
which  Boyd  and  I  would  turn  our  faces  towards 
New  York  and  the  Chief,  I  to  take  one  of  the 
troop  horses,  and  my  horse,  in  Philadelphia,  to 
be  turned  over  to  the  troop  in  exchange. 

After  the  agreement  I  walked  to  the  door  and 
saw  Boyd  and  the  girl  on  a  bench  under  the  trees. 


KINDLING    OF   A   FLAME     263 

They  made  a  wondrous  handsome  couple.  He 
was  telling  her  some  amusing  incident,  for  her 
face  was  beaming  with  humor,  and  as  she  glanced 
up  at  my  approach  her  eyes  were  dancing. 

"  In  truth,  'tis  but  a  short  cry  from  tragedy 
to  mirth,"  I  remarked. 

"  And  perhaps  as  short  'twixt  mirth  and 
tragedy,"  replied  the  girl,  her  eyes  no  longer 
dancing.  "  Mr.  Boyd  tells  me  you  two  ride  to 
join  Washington." 

"  Yes,  my  friend  is  to  be  a  pupil  in  the  school 
of  war." 

"  I  hate  the  word,"  she  said.  "  And  yet,  how 
little  we  know  of  the  war  here.  It  seems  unreal 
to  us,  Captain,  even  though  my  brother  is  in  the 
service,  for  as  yet  war  has  not  come  to  these  hills." 

"  But  it  soon  will,"  said  Boyd.  "  Washington 
is  menaced  at  New  York,  and  should  he  lose  Long 
Island  he  is  certain  to  be  driven  towards  Phila- 
delphia, and  then  these  hills  will  be  overrun  with 
soldiers.  Why,  who  knows  but  that  some  day  I 
may  lead  a  charge  against  a  battery  placed  on 
yonder  knoll."  He  waved  his  hand  gaily  towards 
the  road,  and  laughed  merrily. 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  awful!  "  she  cried. 

"  Nay,  Mistress  Wilmoth,  —  'twould  be  pro- 
motion, I  hope." 


264  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  What!  Not  yet  in  uniform  and  dreaming  of 
promotion?  " 

The  shadow  had  gone  from  her  eyes  and  her 
laugh  rang  as  cheerily  as  before. 

"  Well,  if  ambition  captures  cannons,  where 's 
the  harm  o'  the  dreams?  " 

"  La,  I  am  sure  it  is  proper  enough  to  dream 
such  dreams,  and  'tis  wondrous  brave  of  you  to 
look  forward  so  blithely  to  your  soldiering. 
Now,  if  'twere  Captain  Lester,  here,  flipping  a 
jest  about  charging  batteries  'twould  be  less 
surprising,  for  he  has  faced  them  these  many 
times  and  yet  lives,  while  you  - 

"  May  fall  at  the  first  volley,"  was  Boyd's 
interruption. 

The  laughter  died  from  her  eyes.  "  I  pray  it 
prove  not  so,"  she  said.  "  I  meant  only  that  you 
had  yet  to  taste  of  war's  bitterness." 

"  True,  for  thus  far  it  has  given  me  naught  but 
its  sweets." 

The  look  of  admiration  the  youngster  turned 
full  on  her  face  was,  of  a  certainty,  enough  to  put 
the  blushes  into  her  cheeks,  and  the  grace  of 
his  gallant  bow,  hat  in  right  hand  over  his  heart, 
sufficient  to  win  pardon  for  the  boldness  of  it. 
And  I  ?  I  stood  looking  at  the  pretty  scene  — 
the  blushing  maid  and  the  bowing  cavalier  — 


KINDLING    OF   A    FLAME     265 

and  found  myself  wondering  why  it  was  that  it 
brought  no  pang  to  me.  Yestermorn  I  was 
watching  with  hungry  eyes  the  color-tide  in  her 
cheeks,  hanging  enraptured  on  the  lilt  of  her 
song,  and  near  ready  to  compose  doggerel  sonnets 
on  the  splendour  of  her  eyes.  Heigho!  What  a 
fickle  scamp  I  was,  to  be  sure!  For  between  my 
eyes  and  her  face  there  was  a  lithe  figure  with 
naked  blade  playing  in  the  candle-light,  and 
against  my  heart  I  felt  the  folds  of  a  blood- 
stained kerchief. 

Unconsciously  I  fetched  a  long-drawn  sigh,  and 
instantly  the  girl  flashed  me  a  look  of  inquiry, 
and  Boyd,  noting  my  dejection,  made  sport  of  it. 

"  Ha!  Mistress  Wilmoth,  see  before  you  Cap- 
tain Lester,  a  jesting  soldier  in  the  smoke  of  hostile 
batteries,  but  a  doleful-faced  macaroni  in  the 
midst  of  peace." 

"  I  meant  not  to  be  doleful,"  I  said,  bringing  a 
laugh,  "  but  it  saddened  me  to  think  this  farm 
must  so  soon  be  deserted  for  the  protection  of  the 
town.  For  my  comrade  has  spoken  truly  —  the 
red  tide  of  war  will  surely  sweep  over  these  hills." 

"  This  farm  deserted?  Protection  of  the 
town?  What  mean  you?  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  Tis  decided  by  the  chieftains  of  your  house- 
hold that  you  go  to  Philadelphia  on  the  morrow." 


266  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

I  strove  to  inject  a  vein  of  gaiety  into  my 
speech,  but  I  know  not  what  manner  of  success 
I  made  of  it,  for  the  look  of  questioning  alarm 
did  not  leave  her  face.  I  looked  towards  the 
house  and  was  rejoiced  to  see  Mrs.  Wilmoth 
appear  on  the  veranda. 

"  Your  mother  can  best  explain,"  I  said,  and 
the  maid  turned  and  ran  to  her  mother,  and  we 
saw  her  throw  herself  into  those  sheltering  arms. 

Boyd  and  I  faced  about  and  in  silence  walked 
slowly  towards  the  stable. 

"  God,  but  she's  glorious,  Lester! "  he  ex- 
claimed, at  last. 

"Aye,  glorious!"  I  said  softly,  but  I  meant 
not  Mary  Wilmoth. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  complexion,  such 
eyes,  such  —  " 

"  How  now,  friend  —  is  it  love  or  war  on  which 
you  are  bent?  " 

It  was  most  bearish  on  my  part,  but  the  new 
song  that  had  been  awakened  in  his  heart  was  so 
overpowering  that  he  had  no  ears  for  aught  else, 
and  so  my  curt  speech  went  unrebuked. 

"War  to-morrow,  Lester;  but  to-day  —  ah, 
well,  to-day  shall  be  to-day!  " 

He  closed  the  speech  with  a  sigh  so  pregnant 
with  tenderness  that  I  melted  and  let  my  arm  go 


KINDLING    OF    A    FLAME     267 

about  his  shoulders  schoolboy  like.  And  then  we 
talked  of  other  things. 

By  evening  all  was  ready  for  the  departure  on 
the  morrow,  and  though  the  leaving  of  their  old 
home  was  saddening  to  the  gentle  mother  and  to 
Mary,  they  had  been  quick  to  recognize  the  stress 
of  danger. 

"  I  reared  my  children  here,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilmoth  as  we  sat  in  the  candle-light.  "  Every 
board  of  the  house  is  precious  to  me,  but  our 
leaving  is  but  a  small  item  of  the  cost  being  paid 
by  our  Patriots." 

"  But  we'll  come  back  to  it  some  day,"  said 
the  girl,  "  and  we'll  be  the  happier  because  we 
have  helped  pay  for  liberty." 

"  Could  my  Lord  Howe  have  heard  that  speech 
he  would  take  his  redcoats  home  at  once  and  tell 
King  George  'twere  useless  to  strive  to  conquer 
the  Colonies!  "  exclaimed  Boyd,  his  eyes  feasting 
on  her  flushed  face. 

Late  we  sat  talking,  and  when  the  good-nights 
finally  were  spoken  Boyd  glanced  at  the  mother 
and  bowed  most  profoundly  to  the  daughter. 
Then  as  she  caught  up  her  candlestick  and  fol- 
lowed her  mother  into  their  sleeping-room  he 
stood  staring  after  her  until  with  just  a  flash  of 
the  eyes  towards  him  she  turned  and  closed  the 


268  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

door  behind  her.  I  touched  him  on  the  arm,  and 
without  a  word  he  followed  me  up  the  stairs. 

"  She  said  she  was  coming  back  —  some  day. 
Think  you,  Captain,  we  ever  will?  "  he  asked,  after 
lying  quiet  for  so  long  a  time  I  had  thought  him 
asleep. 

"  God  knows  —  but  the  memory  of  this  bed 
will  be  cheering  on  many  a  bivouac." 

"  Aye,  'tis  something  to  be  able  to  take  memory 
with  one !  And  mayhap  we'll  come  back,  too  — 
some  day." 

He  lay  quiet  again,  and  presently  by  the 
regularity  of  his  breathing  I  knew  he  was  asleep, 
but  to  me  sleep  came  not  readily.  A  multitude 
of  thoughts  and  fancies  were  scorching  my  brain, 
and  before  my  mental  vision  danced  two  words 
in  letters  of  blood  —  "  Search  inn!  " 

Doubtless  this  night  Gayle  Langford  was 
lying  in  the  shelter  of  her  own  home.  And  the 
Prince  had  stood  by  her  side.  The  Prince! 
Had  she  not  scorned  him  and  hated  him  for  a 
poltroon  that  night  of  tragedy?  But  doubtless 
he  would  have  an  explanation  —  and  feminine 
hearts  were  ever  ready  to  convince  feminine 
brains  that  the  impossible  is  the  very  probable. 
And  Boyd  had  told  me  that  the  mother  was 
more  ardent  in  her  desires  for  a  title  for  her 


KINDLING    OF    A    FLAME     269 

daughter  than  the  father  had  been.  And  so  I 
was  able  to  lie  in  that  humble  farmhouse  and 
forecast  with  certainty  that  which  would  come 
to  pass  in  a  grand  mansion  in  Philadelphia,  and 
oddly  enough  in  making  up  my  forecast  I  mentally 
put  it  into  the  words  of  Erasmus: 

"  Hyar  de  title,  an'  hyar  Marse  Langford's 
money,  an'  dese  two  dey  jes'  keep  a-leakin',  an' 
a-leakin',  an'  a-leakin'  towards  each  other  until 
bimeby  dey  is  gwine  ter  git  tergedder." 

The  moon  looked  in  at  the  window  and  threw 
a  bar  of  light  on  the  floor ;  a  white  curtain  swayed 
gently  in  the  grasp  of  the  rose-scented  breeze 
that  stole  in  from  the  night.  'Twas  God's  peace, 
indeed.  Boyd  moved  and  murmured  something 
in  his  sleep.  His  words  came  back  to  me:  "  She 
said  she  was  coming  back  —  some  day.  Think 
you,  Captain,  we  ever  will?  "  My  heart  had  gone 
out  to  the  noble  fellow,  and  should  God  grant  me 
one  prayer  it  would  be  that  he  should  come  back 
to  her. 

The  first  beams  of  the  rising  sun  looked  in  at 
the  window  where  the  sprites  of  the  moonlight 
had  danced,  and  awoke  me  to  the  new  day. 
Boyd  opened  his  eyes  soon  afterward,  and  we  at 
once  arose,  and  while  we  were  donning  our 
clothing  we  heard  Mary  Wilmoth's  voice. 


270  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  My  lover  is  a  soldier  lad, 

King  George's  crown  he's  scorning. 
He  rides  and  fights  with  Washington 
In  Liberty's  bright  morning." 

I  glanced  at  Boyd  and  somewhat  of  bitterness 
came  to  my  heart  as  I  noted  the  telltale  flush  in 
his  cheeks,  for  of  a  truth,  the  Patriot  maid  was 
a  delicious  morsel  of  femininity,  and  I  was  again 
half -convinced  that  I  was  filled  with  love  for  her. 
But  on  my  waistcoat  was  lying  a  bit  of  blood- 
stained cambric,  and  for  a  moment  I  forgot  the 
singer  in  the  mental  picture  of  a  maid  who  hated 
all  that  I  loved  and  loved  all  I  hated,  a  maid  in 
whose  hair  were  glints  of  copper.  Ah,  Mary 
Wilmoth  might  be  glorious,  as  Boyd  had  de- 
clared; she  might  be  delicious,  as  I  had  but 
admitted,  but  Gayle  Langford,  Royalist  to  the 
last  drop  of  her  blood,  was  magnificent,  superb ! 

"  Maids'  hearts  must  break  for  Freedom's  sake  — 

Of  this  I  give  you  warning  — 
But  the  brave  and  true  have  work  to  do 
In  Liberty's  bright  morning." 

"  On  my  life,  'tis  a  fitting  song  she  pipes  this 
morning,"  said  Boyd,  standing  close  to  the 
window,  listening. 


KINDLING    OF    A    FLAME     271 

I  have  ever  been  loth  to  dwell  on  scenes  of 
partings,  for  always  are  they  most  saddening  to 
me,  even  in  these  present  days  of  peace.  The 
ways  of  Providence  are  beyond  our  ken;  we  bid 
Godspeed  and  a  quick  return  to  a  friend  setting 
forth  on  a  journey  perhaps  of  but  one  day  or  two 
days  by  the  best  stage,  and,  lo!  eternity  rolls 
between  us.  So  it  is  that  I  cannot  look  back  save 
in  tears  on  the  parting  of  Boyd  and  myself  with 
the  Wilmoths  on  that  July  morning.  The  sky 
was  cloudless,  and  a  soft  wind  was  stealing  to 
us  from  the  south;  never  had  the  birdland 
chorus  been  sweeter,  never  the  breath  of  rose  and 
honeysuckle  more  fragrant,  nor  the  joy  of  living 
more  masterful  than  in  that  hour  which  witnessed 
our  departure. 

The  cavalcade  went  slowly  because  of  the 
wounded  man  who  rode  in  the  rough  litter,  and 
there  was  somewhat  of  stock,  for  it  was  foreseen 
that  chickens  and  cows  would  be  valuable  in 
Philadelphia.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  Mary  Wil- 
moth  looked  back  at  the  old  home,  and  when 
she  faced  to  the  front  again  tears  were  trembling 
on  the  long  black  lashes. 

Boyd  and  I  rode  with  them  to  the  fork  of  the 
roads,  where  our  ways  parted.  There  we  dis- 
mounted, and  there  was  a  brief  pause  given  up  to 


272  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

hand -shakings  and  good-byes.  Then  Wilmoth 
gave  the  word  and  they  pushed  forward  once 
more.  Long  we  stood  silent  in  the  road,  Boyd 
and  I,  watching  our  friends  until  the  distance 
blended  them  into  a  moving  speck.  Then  we 
mounted  and  galloped  away  to  the  east. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    BIT   OF    NEWS 

THE  notes  of  a  bugle  broke  my  slumbers, 
and  my  sleep-steeped  senses  slowly  ab- 
sorbed a  realization  that  reveille  was 
sounding,  and  that  that  bit  of  dirty  white  above 
me  was  the  roof  of  a  ragged  tent.  Near  by,  I 
heard  the  commands  of  sergeants  preparing  for 
the  morning  roll-call,  and  with  a  throb  of  delight 
I  suddenly  realized  that  'twas  all  true  —  no 
trick  of  a  dream  —  and  that  I  was  once  more 
with  the  Continental  army.  Near  me  Boyd  was 
sitting  up  and  yawning. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  bugle?  Tis  music  to  a 
soldier  like  me,"  I  said,  rather  boastfully  in  my 
sudden  thrill. 

"  Well,  if  they're  winding  it  just  to  entertain 
me  they  can  spare  their  breath,"  he  replied. 
"  And  as  for  you,  it  would  take  a  court  martial 
to  decide  whether  you  are  a  soldier  or  a  London 
fop." 

273 


274  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

'Fore  God,  his  banter  hit  me  harder  than  he 
meant.  I  liked  not  that  reference  to  court  martial, 
for  I  had  yet  to  face  Washington  and  report  the 
loss  of  my  despatches  while  duelling  for  a  Tory 
maid.  We  had  been  challenged  by  the  Patriot 
pickets  at  dusk  the  evening  before,  and  in  due 
time  I  had  established  my  identity,  and  I  having 
vouched  for  my  companion,  we  were  permitted 
to  seek  my  old  quarters. 

"  Your  repartee  is  devilish  dismal,"  I  said, 
gloomily. 

"Confound  it,  man,  brighten  your  face,  can't 
you,  if  that  noisy  old  bugle  is  music  to  you? 
You  look  as  though  you  were  ready  for  a  stone 
wall,  a  blindfold,  and  a  firing  squad.  Remember 

"  The  brave  and  true  have  work  to  do 
In  Liberty's  bright  morning." 

"  Aye,  pipe  your  blithe  song,  my  jester,  but 
you  have  no  disastrous  failure  to  report  to  the 
Chief." 

Filled  as  I  was  with  forebodings,  I  could  not 
but  smile  at  the  amazement  created  among  my 
comrades  when  I  appeared  in  my  rufHes  and  silks, 
soiled  and  travel-stained.  The  hour  for  me  to 
report  to  Washington  came  all  too  soon  for  me, 
and  with  sinking  heart  I  was  ushered  into  his 


A  BIT  OF  NEWS  275 

presence.  He  sat  at  a  long  table  that  was  littered 
with  papers,  and  near  him  was  a  group  of  offi- 
cers. I  caught  the  flash  of  surprise,  followed  in- 
stantly by  a  frown,  as  he  glimpsed  my  garb,  for  I 
had  had  no  chance  to  provide  myself  with  uni- 
form. 

"  Is  this  Captain  Lester?  "  he  asked,  a  note  of 
cold  sarcasm  in  his  emphasis. 

"  It  is,  sir,  though  I  doubt  not  it  will  not  long 
be." 

My  cheeks  were  reddened  with  the  disgrace  of 
my  position,  and  I  doubt  not  that  their  flush  and 
the  regret  with  which  my  voice  must  have  been 
filled  touched  his  great  heart,  for  his  gaze  softened, 
and  then  he  turned  to  the  officers. 

"  Gentlemen,  Captain  Lester  has  a  private  re- 
port to  submit.  May  we  crave  your  indulgence?  " 

Instantly  they  were  on  their  feet  and  bowing 
themselves  out  of  the  room.  The  Chief  turned 
to  me. 

"  Well?  "  he  said. 

"  I  have  failed,  sir,"  I  answered,  striving  to 
meet  those  steady  eyes. 

"  I  know  it.     What  is  your  excuse?  " 

"  You  know  it?  "  I  cried,  dumfounded. 
"Why  —  " 

"  Never  mind  how!     Your  excuse!  " 


276  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

His  voice  was  cold  and  stern.  I  fought  a  mental 
battle  for  the  space  of  half  a  minute  while  he 
watched  me  silently. 

"  None,  sir,"  I  finally  responded,  though  the 
words  were  but  little  more  than  a  whisper. 

"  You  have  the  effrontery  to  report  the  loss  of 
your  despatches  and  have  no  excuse?  " 

"  There  can  be  no  excuse  in  my  case,  sir.  But 
I  have  not  reported  the  loss  of  my  despatches." 

"  'Twas  needless.  But  if  you  have  no  excuse, 
perhaps  you  will  at  least  favor  me  by  a  recital 
of  your  doings  since  you  left." 

Whereupon  I  found  my  tongue  and  launched 
upon  what  must  have  proved  a  vivid  account  of 
the  adventures  that  had  befallen  me  since  I  had 
ridden  away  from  New  York.  As  I  proceeded  he 
arose  and,  walking  to  the  window,  stood  look- 
ing out,  his  back  turned  to  me.  I  paused  at 
this. 

"  Go  on.     I  am  listening,"  he  commanded. 

When  I  told  of  the  girl's  scream  of  fear  and 
how  I  had  sprung  to  her  defence,  forgetting  all 
in  my  eagerness  to  slay  the  knave  who  had  in- 
truded upon  her,  and  how  I  had  fled  with  her  to 
protect  her  from  the  rabble,  one  of  his  hands 
went  to  his  chin  and  remained  there,  a  favorite 
attitude  of  his  when  profoundly  interested.  I 


"  YOU   HAVE    THE    EFFRONTERY    TO   REPORT   THE    LOSS    OF    YOUR 
DESPATCHES   AND   HAVE   NO   EXCUSE  ?  "  —  Page  276. 


A  BIT  OF  NEWS  277 

brought  the  recital  through  the  affair  at  the  Red 
Fox  inn  without  telling  of  the  Unknown's  duel 
in  the  hallway  and  without  saying  aught  of  a 
blood-stained  kerchief. 

"  And  now,  sir,  I  report  for  punishment,"  I 
said  as  bravely  as  possible  in  conclusion. 

He  stood  motionless  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  towards  me. 

"  And  what  favor  do  you  ask?  " 

"  None,  sir,  lest  it  be  permission  to  lead  the 
most  desperate  hope  in  the  struggle  that  is  coming 
to  us  —  permission  to  die  honorably." 

My  old  zeal  was  returning,  and  there  was  much 
of  fervor  in  my  plea. 

"  God  grant  your  death  may  be  honorable 
when  it  comes,  for  your  life  has  been  so." 

"  But  my  failure,  sir!  " 

He  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "  My  boy," 
he  said,  and  his  tone  was  kindly,  "  a  soldier's 
blade  should  be  for  his  country  first  and  virtue 
next,  because  '  the  greatest  good  to  the  greatest 
number  '  is  a  rule  as  old  as  civilization,  but  young 
blood  cannot  always  be  expected  to  be  deaf  to  a 
female's  cry  until  country  has  been  considered. 
I  think  that  at  your  age  I  should  have  had  the 
same  report  to  submit  that  you  have  brought 
me." 


278  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

He  must  have  seen  the  tears  that  sprang  to  my 
eyes,  for  he  ceased  speaking  for  a  moment  and 
took  a  few  turns  across  the  room. 

"  You  will  resume  command  of  your  company 
at  once,  Captain,"  he  said,  stopping  before  me 
again. 

I  began  pouring  out  my  thanks,  but  he  stopped 
me  with  a  gesture. 

"  It  is  only  fair,"  he  said,  "  to  tell  you  that  one 
reason  for  my  leniency  is  because  your  failure 
did  no  harm  —  rather  did  it  work  some  good. 
A  change  in  plans  made  it  desirable  that  a  message 
should  be  sent  to  Congress  asking  that  your  in- 
formation be  disregarded  and  the  last  despatch 
acted  upon.  Thirty-six  hours  after  you  left, 
another  messenger  was  on  his  way  to  Philadelphia. 
He  delivered  his  despatch  and  learned  that  you 
had  not.  Two  days  ago  a  Tory  spy  was  caught 
with  the  despatch  stolen  from  you  on  his  person. 
I  knew  then  that  for  some  reason  you  had  failed. 
Such  information  as  the  enemy  gained  from  that 
message  served  only  to  mislead  them. " 


I  have  no  wish  to  tell  to  you  that  which  is  writ 
in  the  histories  of  your  country.  This  tale  has 
to  do  with  those  things  that  are  writ  only  in 


A  BIT  OF  NEWS  279 

hearts,  and  so  I  ignore  those  terrible  days  when 
Long  Island  and  the  adjacent  country  was  stained 
with  blood.  In  those  weeks  Boyd  won  praise 
for  his  gallantry,  and  when  Washington's  beaten 
army  was  sent  flying  across  New  Jersey,  he 
marched  with  it  as  a  lieutenant,  though  so  great 
was  the  number  of  desertions  that  he  was  com- 
mander of  but  a  handful. 

Despair  marched  by  the  side  of  each  Patriot 
soldier  in  that  retreat  before  Cornwallis,  and 
officers,  wearied  and  numbed  with  the  increasing 
cold,  blasphemed  God  in  their  bitterness.  But 
still  we  struggled  on  towards  the  Delaware, 
ofttimes  our  rear  guard  hearing  the  music  of  the 
bands  of  the  British  advance. 

"  Remember  that  I  once  asked  you  if  you 
thought  we  would  ever  come  back? "  said 
Boyd,  as  we  plodded  along.  "  Well,  we're 
coming." 

A  ghost  of  a  smile  played  about  his  lips  for  a 
moment,  and  then  was  gone,  leaving  there  the 
tense  lines  that  suffering  had  drawn. 

"  Yes,  but  it  looks  as  though  if  we  ever  see 
Philadelphia  again  it  will  be  as  prisoners  of 
Cornwallis,"  I  replied. 

"  If  only  that  cursed  Lee  would  quit  plotting 
and  go  to  fighting!  "  he  exclaimed. 


28o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  If  only  King  George  would  sing  '  Yankee 
Doodle! '  "  was  my  reply,  meant  to  be  caustic. 

Winter  in  all  of  its  severity  found  us  still  re- 
treating. Before  us  and  on  either  side  of  us  were 
folk  whose  patriotism  cooled  more  rapidly  at  the 
approach  of  Cornwallis  than  did  their  shins  at 
the  nip  of  winter,  and  behind  us  were  the  Hessians 
and  British,  jesting  at  the  pitiful  trail  of  red  left 
on  the  snow  by  the  hundreds  who  were  without 
shoes.  And  the  scouts  who  hung  on  the  flanks 
of  the  enemy  each  day  brought  tales  of  brutish 
excesses  by  the  Hessians. 

But  at  last  the  Delaware  lay  before  us,  and  the 
ever-slothful  enemy  rested  at  Princeton  long 
enough  for  us  to  cross  in  safety.  Then  we  hovered 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  Delaware  while  the  enemy 
gave  up  the  pursuit  at  the  river  bank  and  went 
into  winter  quarters,  full  confident  that  such 
Continentals  as  did  not  freeze  to  death  would 
desert  before  spring. 

Boyd,  being  familiar  with  the  country,  was 
given  much  scouting  duty,  and  brought  back  the 
first  information  of  the  Congress  deserting  Phila- 
delphia for  Baltimore.  On  these  journeys  to  the 
Capital  he  managed  to  pay  his  respects  quite 
often  to  Mary  Wilmoth,  who,  with  her  mother, 
he  found  living  in  a  modest  cottage,  and  it  was 


A  BIT  OF  NEWS  281 

on  his  return  from  one  of  these  expeditions  that 
he  entered  the  miserable  little  hut  where  I  was 
quartered  and  proudly  exhibited  a  heavy  scarf 
she  had  knit  for  him. 

"Is  it  not  splendid?  "  he  asked,  wrapping  it 
about  his  throat  and  ears  in  order  to  best  exhibit 
it. 

"  Aye,  and  most  becoming,"  I  responded,  "  for 
it  hides  all  of  your  countenance  but  your  eye- 
brows." 

"  My  lover  is  a  soldier  lad," 

sang  Boyd,  blithely,  and  added:  "  Tis  not 
beauty  but  bullets  that  count,  friend  Lester,  so 
it  matters  not  what  the  scarf  may  hide  so  long 
as  it  keeps  the  cold  from  stealing  the  life  from  a 
body  that  may  stop  British  lead." 

"  Nay,  rather  let  us  hope  'twill  keep  frost  from 
the  lips  that  hunger  to  buss  a  Patriot  maid,"  I 
replied,  smiling. 

He  laughed  and  unwound  the  scarf  from  about 
his  neck. 

"  In  truth,  I  like  your  idea  the  better,"  he  said, 
"  and  in  payment  for  the  suggestion  will  I  give 
you  a  bit  of  news  that  may  interest  you.  The 
Langfords  have  left  Philadelphia," 


282  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

He  looked  me  full  in  the  face  as  he  spoke,  and 
I  knew  that  he  had  not  forgotten  a  red  rose,  and 
how  I  had  hung  out  of  the  window  of  the  Golden 
Lion  when  the  young  Loyalist  had  smiled  at  me 
from  her  coach.  But  no  sign  of  unusual  interest 
reached  my  face. 

"  Indeed? "  I  put  the  answer  carelessly,  I 
flatter  myself. 

"  Yes,  the  house  is  closed.  But  I  have  greater 
news." 

:'  Then  out  with  it  at  once,  Sir  Gossiper,"  I 
cried,  jocularly. 

"  Gayle  Langford  is  soon  to  wed  the  Prince." 

I  had  taken  up  the  candle  in  order  to  more 
closely  examine  the  gift  scarf,  and  somehow  the 
bit  of  tallow  slipped  from  my  hand  and  fell  to 
the  floor.  Quickly  reaching  forward,  I  snatched 
it  up,  the  moment's  respite  enabling  me  to 
recover  myself. 

"  This  freezing  and  starving  has  made  my 
clutch  uncertain,"  I  said,  replacing  the  candle. 

"  Beginning  to  have  '  nerves,'  Lester?  " 

"  It  seems  they're  growing  shaky,"  I  replied. 

"  But  the  wedding  —  care  you  nothing  for  the 
yarn?" 

"  Ah,  yes,  —  the  wedding.  'Twas  like  to  have 
been  forgotten  in  our  discussion  of  starvation 


A  BIT  OF  NEWS  283 

and  '  nerves.'     Of  course,  tell  me  of  the  wed- 
ding." 

"  Well,  after  all,  'tis  a  brief  tale.  I  only  know 
that  'tis  said  the  ceremony  will  be  spoken  during 
the  holidays,  and  that  the  Langfords  are  now 
with  the  Prince  in  his  winter  quarters." 

"  Winter  quarters?  Then  he  has  finally  joined 
the  army?  " 

"  It  seems  so,  and  commands  some  Hessian 
battalion  —  though  where  I  know  not." 

"  Mayhap  over  yonder,"  I  replied,  waving  my 
hand  towards  the  Delaware. 

"  Tis  said  in  the  town  that  after  the  death  of 
Peter  Langford,  Mistress  Gayle  and  the  Prince 
were  constantly  in  each  other's  company,  and 
that  the  girl  was  greatly  devoted  to  the 
rascal." 

"  Very  likely.  'Tis  a  way  girls  have  —  bestow- 
ing their  affections  on  rascals." 

I  looked  at  him  so  significantly,  and  smiled, 
that  he  blushed  a  fiery  red,  and,  shifting  from 
one  foot  to  another,  said  he  believed  he  had 
better  be  about  his  duties. 

"  But  not  until  you  take  my  hand,  old  friend, 
and  say  you  harbor  no  resentment  because  of  my 
jests,"  I  said,  rising  and  standing  before  him. 

He  seized  my  hand  and  squeezed  it.     "  Bless 


284  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

you,  there  is  no  room  in  my  heart  for  surliness." 
And  with  a  merry  laugh,  he  was  gone. 

Then,  with  none  to  see,  the  mask  fell  from  my 
face  and  the  truth  that  had  never  been  really 
confessed  to  myself  crushed  down  upon  my  heart 
until,  in  the  pain  of  it,  I  rose  and  paced  the 
narrow  hut.  Yes,  'twas  true,  I  loved  Gayle  Lang- 
ford!  God  in  heaven,  'twas  drearily,  pitifully 
true!  And  now  this  hour  had  come,  as  I  had 
known  it  must  come,  and,  knowing  it,  I  had  not 
before  yielded  my  brain  to  my  heart  —  and  never 
had  I  been  able  to  force  my  heart  to  yield  to  my 
brain.  What  man  with  red  blood  in  his  veins 
can? 

"  You  should  never  have  loved  her!  "  piped  a 
small  voice  to  me,  and  I  clenched  my  hands  and 
would  have  struck  had  the  voice  come  from 
mortal.  Never  had  there  been  an  instant  when  I 
failed  to  realize  how  far  apart  we  were,  as  far 
apart  as  though  we  had  our  being  on  different 
planets  —  hers  a  brilliant  star  high  above  the 
sunless  world  where  I  groped  along  a  danger- 
strewn  pathway  lighted  only  by  war's  lurid 
lightnings.  Dear  God,  every  moment  I  had  been 
filled  with  the  knowledge  of  its  hopelessness! 
But  why  should  I  have  been  led  to  her  side,  to 
look  into  her  eyes,  to  hear  the  music  of  her  voice, 


A  BIT  OF  NEWS  285 

to  see  the  nobility  of  her  soul  shine  through  the 
mists?  I  had  not  sought  her.  If  it  were  true 
that  God  ruled,  had  He  not  taken  me  by  the 
hand  and  led  me  to  her?  And  now  — 

I  know  not  how  long  I  sat  there,  brooding, 
but  the  cold  crept  to  my  marrow  and  I  saw  that 
my  candle  was  spluttering  its  life  out.  In  the 
east  the  dawn  was  flinging  its  orange  and  gold 
banners  into  the  sky  and  a  crescent  moon  hung 
lustreless  over  a  whitened  hill  where  ever  and 
anon  the  snow  sprang  up  in  glee  dances  to  the 
piping  of  the  north  wind. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN   WHICH   I    TURN    CLERGYMAN 

AS  the  days  dragged  by,  a  whisper  filtered 
through  the  American  camp  that  lifted 
•  the  freezing  and  starving  soldiers  out  of 
the  pit  of  despair,  for  it  said  that  Washington 
was  planning  to  cross  the  Delaware  and  strike 
the  enemy  at  Trenton. 

Night  after  night  our  scouts  crossed  the  river 
and  reconnoitred  in  and  about  Trenton,  and  as 
day  succeeded  day  their  reports  were  that  Rahl 
was  growing  more  and  more  careless  and  that 
carousals  and  debauchery  were  rapidly  succeeding 
any  semblance  of  discipline  and  caution.  A 
Patriot  farmer  on  the  Jersey  shore  kept  a  stable 
filled  with  horses  for  the  use  of  the  American 
scouts,  who  would  cross  the  river  after  dark, 
make  their  way  to  this  stable  and  provide  them- 
selves with  a  mount,  returning  the  horse  and 
hiding  the  saddle  before  coming  back  to  camp. 

286 


/   TURN   CLERGYMAN         287 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  Christmas  Day  I 
pushed  off  from  the  Pennsylvania  shore  bent  on 
noting  the  extent  of  the  Hessian  Christmas 
carousals  and  reporting  to  the  Chief,  when  our 
army  should  land  in  Jersey  that  night.  I  went 
alone,  and  scarce  had  I  left  the  protection  of  the 
shore  until  I  found  that  'twas  a  most  hazardous 
task  that  lay  before  me.  The  high  wind  and  the 
swift  current  sent  the  ice  cakes  crashing  and 
grinding  against  each  other,  and  in  fighting  the 
ice  away  from  my  boat  I  had  but  little  time  to 
row,  but  managed  to  keep  my  course  fairly  well 
until  close  to  the  farther  shore,  when  a  giant  floe 
struck  the  frail  craft  with  terrific  force  and  stove 
in  the  side.  Instantly  the  water  rushed  in,  and, 
seeing  my  only  hope,  I  slammed  the  oars  into 
position  and  tugged  desperately  at  them.  Lower 
and  lower  the  boat  settled,  until,  within  a  few 
feet  of  safety,  it  sank  from  under  me  and  I  found 
myself  swimming  in  the  icy  river.  God's  mercy! 
Had  I  been  less  the  hardened  soldier  I  would 
have  died  of  the  chill,  but  I  struggled  with  the 
strength  of  despair  and  soon  found  my  feet 
touching  bottom. 

I  waded  ashore  and  without  delay  set  off  at  a 
brisk  run  for  the  home  of  the  fanner,  and  though 
my  clothing  froze  on  me  as  I  ran,  the  exercise  kept 


288  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

my  blood  circulating  and  I  was  able  to  stagger 
into  the  kitchen  of  the  farmhouse,  where  hot  rum 
was  poured  down  my  throat  and  my  clothing 
was  spread  to  dry  before  a  roaring  fire.  Then  at 
dusk  I  fared  forth,  mounted  on  a  horse  from  the 
"  scout's  stable,"  as  it  was  known  in  our  lines. 
With  the  saddle  were  holsters  and  pistols. 

I  was  in  no  hurry  to  reach  the  town,  and  rode 
slowly,  thankful  that  the  wind  was  at  my  back. 
Presently  I  became  aware  of  the  pounding  of 
hoofs  on  the  frozen  road  behind  me,  and,  turning 
in  my  saddle,  I  saw  a  man  coming  at  a  full  gallop. 
Drawing  the  folds  of  my  heavy  cape  the  closer 
about  me  to  hide  my  uniform,  though  there  was 
small  chance  of  the  faded  rags  being  recognized 
as  a  uniform,  I  slipped  a  pistol  from  its  holster 
and  concealed  it  under  my  cape  as  the  stranger 
rode  to  my  side  and  reined  down  to  the  jog  pace 
of  my  mount. 

"  Friend,  you  ride  as  though  the  weather  were 
to  your  liking,"  he  said  in  a  heavy  voice. 

"  My  beast  is  weary,"  I  replied,  studying  him 
as  best  I  could  in  the  gloom. 

"  '  A  righteous  man  regardeth  the  life  of  his 
beast.'  —  Proverbs  xii:  10." 

His  cloak  was  wrapped  closely  about  him,  but 
I  could  see  that  his  garb  was  sombre  throughout. 


I  TURN   CLERGYMAN         289 

"  Ah,  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  I  take  it,"  I 
said  at  a  hazard. 

"  Even  so.  '  Whoso  despiseth  the  word  shall 
be  destroyed;  but  he  that  feareth  the  command- 
ment shall  be  rewarded.'  —  Proverbs  xiii:i3." 

"Ride  you  to  Trenton?" 

"  Yes,  even  to  that  town  which  I  am  told  is 
given  to  much  wickedness  since  the  coming  of 
the  soldiers." 

"  In  truth,  I  think  they  stand  much  in  need  of 
a  clergyman,"  I  said. 

"  Gladly  would  I  speak  unto  them  the  message 
of  our  God,  yet  they  do  but  scoff  at  its  preaching, 
I  am  told.  Tis  not  to  preach  that  I  ride  to 
Trenton." 

"  Not  to  preach?  " 

"  Nay,  but  to  speak  the  solemn  words  of  a 
marriage  ceremony." 

The  exclamation  that  broke  from  my  lips  was 
stolen  by  the  sweep  of  the  rising  wind  and  escaped 
my  companion. 

"  This  night,"  he  continued,  "  a  noble  from 
across  the  seas  espouses  a  Philadelphia  maid. 
She  will  have  none  of  the  army  chaplains,  and  I 
was  sent  for.  I  had  best  hasten  my  beast  lest  I 
be  late." 

"  At  what  hour  will  the  vows  be  taken,  and 


29o  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

where?  "  I  bent  my  head  low  over  my  saddle  to 
hide  the  anxiety  my  question  might  indicate. 

"When  the  hour  of  eight  is  half -spent  —  at 
Colonel  Rahl's  headquarters." 

He  spoke  to  his  horse  and  the  animal  broke  into 
a  sharp  canter.  I  did  likewise  and  rode  at  his 
side,  my  brain  a  whirling  chaos. 

"  This  ungodly  strife  is  near  to  an  end,"  said 
the  preacher,  "  and  'tis  well  that  the  hearts  of 
men  and  maids  turn  to  tenderer  subjects.  Tis 
fitting  that  —  Ug-g-h!  Great  Jehovah!  " 

The  sentence  he  was  voicing  so  glibly  gave  way 
to  the  closing  exclamations  as  he  saw  a  hand  from 
out  of  the  gloom  suddenly  clutch  his  bridle-rein 
while  another  hand  shoved  the  dark  muzzle  of  a 
pistol  close  to  his  face. 

"  Fear  not,  for  no  harm  shall  come  to  you  if 
you  obey  me  quickly,"  I  said. 

"  '  Horror  hath  taken  hold  upon  me  because  of 
the  wicked  that  forsake  thy  law !  '  So  'tis  writ  in 
the  Psalms.  But  what  is  your  evil  will,  man  of 
violence?  " 

"  First  that  you  hold  your  hands  above  your 
head  while  I  search  for  your  weapons.  So.  Ah, 
you  are  unarmed,  I  see." 

"  '  In  God  is  my  salvation  and  my  glory;  and 
my  refuge  is  in  God.'  So  saith  the  Psalmist." 


/   TURN  CLERGYMAN         291 

"  'Tis  a  glorious  faith,  I  grant,  but  for  hearty 
persuasion  a  toy  like  this  is  greatly  to  be  admired." 
I  patted  my  pistol  as  I  spoke.  "  And  now,  my 
good  man,  I  will  trouble  you  to  dismount. 
Thanks.  Now  please  to  tie  both  horses  to  this 
tree.  Very  nicely  done,  I  vow.  Kindly  walk 
ahead  of  me  to  yon  house,  which  I'll  wager  has 
been  deserted  by  those  who  feared  Briton  or 
American." 

He  remained  silent  but  marched  ahead  to  the 
cabin  close  beside  the  road,  which,  as  I  surmised, 
had  been  deserted.  The  door  yielded  easily.  I 
had  taken  from  my  pouch  a  piece  of  candle,  a  bit 
of  tinder  obtained  from  the  Patriot  farmer,  and 
my  flint  and  steel,  and  these  I  held  out  to  my  cap- 
tive as  we  reached  the  door,  at  the  same  time 
keeping  my  pistol  covering  him. 

"  Strike  a  light,  please,"  I  commanded,  and 
he  knelt  on  the  floor  and  began  striking  the 
sparks  from  the  flint. 

After  a  few  efforts  the  tinder  caught  the  spark, 
and  a  moment  later  the  preacher  stood  before 
me  with  lighted  candle.  I  stepped  within  and 
put  my  back  to  the  closed  door.  Nothing  in  the 
way  of  furniture  had  been  left  in  the  cabin,  and 
I  knew  that  I  need  fear  no  interruption  in  the 
programme  on  which  I  had  decided. 


GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  A  rebel  soldier!  "  he  cried,  as  my  cloak  fell 
away  and  revealed  my  uniform.  "  '  All  they 
that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the 
sword!'  " 

"  'Tis  some  comfort,  then,  to  know  that  I  shall 
not  be  hanged,  as  my  uncle  fears.  But  I  must 
insist  on  trading  clothes  with  you." 

He  expostulated  and  quoted  much  Scripture 
to  convince  me  I  was  plunging  into  the  awful 
pit,  but  a  demonstration  with  that  evil-looking 
pistol  caused  him  to  hastily  disrobe,  and  then 
he  stood  with  chattering  teeth  while  I  discarded 
my  uniform. 

"  Zounds,  man,  you  would  be  the  beau  of  the 
army  would  you  but  'list!  "  I  chaffed,  after  we 
had  again  dressed.  "  Now  I  must  borrow  that 
handsome  wig  you  wear.  Sorry  I  have  none  to 
exchange  for  it.  Here,  I  will  return  your  valu- 
ables, all  but  this  prayer-book,  and  this  bit  of 
paper  with  Colonel  Rahl's  signature  passing  the 
Reverend  Jonathan  Collenbaugh  through  his 
lines.  Possibly  I  may  ride  to  Trenton.  If  so,  I 
will  present  your  regrets  and  explain  that  you  are 
unable  to  officiate  at  the  wedding  to-night.  I 
will  fasten  the  hasp  on  the  door  as  I  go  out,  but 
a  strong  man  like  you  can  soon  break  it  down. 
I  shall  be  compelled  to  turn  your  horse  loose,  but 


I  TURN  CLERGYMAN         293 

by  a  few  hours  of  steady  walking  you  should  be 
able  to  reach  shelter.  And  you  will  not  freeze  if 
you  walk." 

I  backed  out,  pulled  the  door  shut,  and  dropped 
the  peg  in  the  hasp.  Then  I  ran  to  the  horses, 
jerked  the  bridle  off  the  minister's  mount,  and 
sent  the  animal  scurrying  away;  after  which  I 
sprang  into  my  own  saddle  and  galloped  away 
towards  Trenton. 

I  knew  that  the  Reverend  Collenbaugh  could  not 
reach  the  town  for  at  least  two  hours  after  I  did, 
and  then  he  was  apt  to  have  a  night  in  the  guard- 
house before  he  could  explain  how  he  chanced 
to  be  wearing  a  rebel  uniform.  That  I  was  taking 
one  of  the  most  desperate  chances  of  my  unpeace- 
ful  career  I  well  knew,  but  I  had  resolved  that 
there  should  be  no  wedding  at  Rahl's  that  night. 
After  that  —  Perhaps  I  might  fall  in  the  attack 
for  which  Washington's  army  was  at  that  moment 
on  the  march,  and  then  wedding  or  war  would 
mean  naught  to  me,  but  'neath  winter's  snows 
and  summer's  roses  I  should  sleep  unmindful  of 
it  all. 

Snow  was  beginning  to  fall,  and  by  the  time 
the  lights  of  Trenton  were  in  view  the  snow  was 
whirling  about  me  in  great  clouds.  Suddenly  a 
figure  loomed  up  before  me  in  the  roadway. 


294  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"Halt!"  came  the  sharp  challenge,  and  I 
promptly  obeyed. 

"  A  man  of  peace  on  a  tender  mission,"  I 
replied  in  response  to  the  picket's  questions. 
Then  I  handed  over  my  stolen  pass.  He  called, 
and  from  a  shed  appeared  another  soldier  with  a 
lantern. 

"  Humph!  A  parson!  "  There  was  a  sneer  in 
his  tone  as  he  handed  the  paper  back  to  me. 

"  Yea,  even  so.  '  Whoso  despiseth  the  word 
shall  be  destroyed;  but  he  that  feareth  the 
commandment  shall  be  rewarded,'  '  quoth  I, 
striving  to  imitate  Collenbaugh's  tone  and 
manner. 

Then  I  rode  on,  receiving  an  occasional  chal- 
lenge, until  I  was  near  to  Rahl's  headquarters, 
which  I  could  readily  distinguish  by  the  abun- 
dance of  light  and  the  music  of  the  fiddles  and 
hautboys,  for  the  Hessian  colonel  was  notoriously 
fond  of  music  and  pomp.  When  near  this  place 
I  dismounted  and  led  my  horse  to  the  shelter  of 
a  small  shed  in  the  rear  of  a  house  that  appeared 
tenantless.  I  examined  the  pistols  in  the  holsters, 
and,  making  sure  that  they  were  ready  for  service, 
I  replaced  them  and  carefully  protected  them 
from  the  weather.  I  would  have  felt  much  better 
with  them  at  my  hips,  but  they  were  far  too  heavy 


I  TURN   CLERGYMAN         295 

and  cumbersome  to  carry  without  holsters,  so  I 
tucked  my  prayer-book  under  my  arm  and  went 
boldly  forth. 

Drunken  Hessians  were  everywhere,  and  I 
smiled  grimly  as  I  thought  of  the  avenging  army 
that  soon  would  fall  upon  the  hirelings  who  had 
left  a  trail  of  debauchery  across  the  country. 
Before  Rahl's  headquarters  stood  cannons  that 
should  have  been  in  defences.  At  the  entrance 
a  sentry  halted  me,  and  smiled  as  he  read  my 
pass. 

"  It's  all  reg'lar,  Parson,  an'  I  know  jolly  well 
there's  to  be  a  marryin'  to-night,  but  I  must  call 
the  Captain  of  the  Guard.  It's  orders  from 
Colonel  Rahl." 

A  few  moments  later  and  a  swagger  young 
English  officer  appeared,  garbed  in  all  of  the 
brilliance  of  the  British  dress  uniform.  He 
looked  at  my  pass  and  smiled,  also. 

"  Come  right  in,  sir,  and  warm  your  bones.  It 
must  have  been  a  beastly  ride  you  have  had,  sir. 
But  Mistress  Langford  needs  must  have  a  minister 
of  her  own  church  —  and  no  army  chaplain  would 
she  have  near  her."  He  rattled  on  as  he  led  me 
into  the  house,  not  giving  me  opportunity  for 
reply.  "  The  Prince  is  a  lucky  blade  —  though 
he  doesn't  deserve  such  a  bride.  There!  I've  let 


296  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

my  tongue  wag  too  much.  But  when  you  see  her 
you'll  say,  yourself,  that  she's  superb,  for  even  a 
preacher  knows  a  comely  wench  when  he  sees  her, 
eh,  Parson?  " 

"  '  As  a  jewel  of  gold  in  a  swine's  snout,  so  is  a 
fair  woman  which  is  without  discretion,'  '  I 
replied,  chancing  to  remember  a  quotation  which 
had  been  a  favorite  of  my  great-uncle's. 

He  laughed  merrily  and  ushered  me  into  a 
waiting-room. 

"  What  is  your  pleasure?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  would  have  speech  with  the  maiden 

"  Certainly,  I'll  —  there,  I  am  being  called. 
I'll  return  as  soon  as  possible  and  present  you." 

With  a  gay  song  on  his  lips  he  hurried  away 
and  I  stood  alone,  listening  to  the  sound  of  the 
music,  while  from  a  near-by  room  came  bursts 
of  laughter  and  an  occasional  verse  of  a  drinking 
song.  Rumor  had  told  us  of  the  Continental 
army  that  there  was  much  guzzling  of  liquor  at 
the  Hessian  headquarters,  and  even  on  this 
occasion  they  were  drinking  to  excess. 

It  lacked  about  an  hour  of  the  time  for  the 
ceremony.  A  log  blazed  on  the  cavernous  fire- 
place and  half  a  dozen  candles  in  highly  polished 
brass  holders  illuminated  the  room.  I  stepped  to 
the  window  and  peered  out  into  the  winter's 


I   TURN   CLERGYMAN         297 

storm.  Would  that  blinding  whirl  of  snow  drift 
across  my  grave  a  few  hours  hence?  Nervous? 
Aye,  'tis  as  well  I  should  confess  it,  for  here  was  I 
surrounded  by  those  who  would  snuff  out  my  life 
at  a  moment's  notice  should  aught  betray  me, 
while  somewhere  within  the  house  was  the  maid 
I  loved,  a  maid  who  was  even  then  decking  her- 
self for  espousal  with  another  —  and  a  few  miles 
away  my  comrades  were  coming  to  give  battle. 
Think  you  I  had  no  cause  for  nervousness? 

"  Is  you  waitin'  fer  some  one,  suh?  "  asked  a 
voice  behind  me,  and,  turning,  I  stood  face  to 
face  with  old  Erasmus,  gorgeous  in  the  Langford 
livery. 

"  Even  so.  I  am  the  minister  come  to  join  the 
man  and  the  maid  in  wedlock.  I  would  speak 
with  the  maid."  I  was  wondering  how  my 
disguise  would  stand  this  test. 

"  Yes,  suh,  I  'spect  she  be  monstrous  glad  ter 
see  ye,  suh,  fer  she  has  been  a-walkin'  de  floor  an' 
er  talkin'  to  herself  like  she  done  feared  ye 
wouldn't  —  " 

His  eyes,  which  he  had  turned  on  me  carelessly, 
seemed  suddenly  to  dilate,  and  he  took  a  quick 
step  towards  me,  staring  full  into  my  face. 

"  What  ails  you,  fellow,  that  you  stare  thus 
at  me?  "  I  exclaimed  sternly. 


298  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  'Scuse  me,  suh,  'scuse  me  —  I  —  thought  — 
what?  —  how  come  it?  "  He  paused  a  moment 
and  then  threw  out  his  arms  towards  me,  and 
cried  in  a  tense  whisper:  "  Marse  Ian!  Oh,  de 
good  Lord,  Marse  Ian!  " 

"  Sh-h-h!  Not  that  name,  Rassle!  Pull  your- 
self together  quickly.  It's  life  or  death  to  me." 

"  Yes,  suh,  I'se  gwine  ter  keep  dat  name  jes' 
in  my  heart,  an'  neber  speak  it  hyar  agin,  fer, 
Oh-h-h!  de  sweet  ol'  Missus  lookin'  downerginan' 
pleadin'  wif  ol'  Rassle  ter  keer  fer  her  boy!  " 

"  Then  as  you  love  her  memory,  give  not  a 
sign,  no  matter  what  happens.  How  came  you 
here?  " 

"  Wif  de  Langfords,  suh.  Dat  title  an'  dat 
money  dey've  kept  on  er  leakin',  an'  ter-night 
dey  gwine  ter  git  tergedder." 

"No,  no!  Not  this  night,  Rassle!  But  take 
me  to  Gayle  Langford  at  once." 

"  Yes,  suh,  Marse  la  —  Marse  Preacher,  jes' 
f oiler  me." 

He  turned  towards  the  door,  but  as  he  did  so 
the  Captain  of  the  Guard  stepped  into  the  room. 

"  Ah,  the  servant  was  about  to  direct  you,  eh, 
Parson?  But  I  welcome  the  honor."  He  smiled 
pleasantly.  "  You  may  go,"  he  added,  turning 
to  the  negro. 


299 

Erasmus  hesitated,  glanced  at  me,  and  then, 
bowing  low,  he  walked  slowly  away,  and  I  saw 
his  lips  move  and  knew  he  was  in  prayer. 

"  May  I  offer  my  arm,  Parson?  But  pardon 
my  thoughtlessness  in  not  introducing  myself. 
Parson,  your  most  humble  servant,  Francis  Dun- 
lap  Colburn,  Captain  in  his  Majesty's  Grenadiers." 
He  bowed  low  before  me,  and  I  found  myself  lik- 
ing the  blithe  fellow. 

"  And  may  no  bullet  e'er  be  molded  that  will 
close  your  honest  eyes  in  death,"  I  responded 
with  right  hearty  fervor. 

"  A  right  civil  speech,  sir,  and  my  thanks 
for  it.  Shall  we  now  seek  the  expectant 
maid?  " 

I  took  his  arm  and  we  walked  out  into  the 
hallway,  a  strangely  contrasted  pair,  the  brilliant 
colors  and  gold  cordings  of  his  uniform  having 
an  added  splendor  when  compared  with  the 
sombre  clergyman's  garb  I  was  wearing. 

"This  noble,"  I  asked,  "is  he  not  deserving 
of  his  bride?  " 

"  Mayhap  it  ill  becomes  one  of  us  roistering 
blades  to  speak  ill  of  any  man,  but  I  have  no 
stomach  for  a  fortune-hunter,  be  he  King's  Loy- 
alist or  rebel!  " 

We  had  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 


300  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

"  But  the  maid  loves  the  scamp,  doubtless," 
I  said,  as  we  commenced  the  ascent. 

He  laughed.  '  Who  can  read  the  heart  of  such 
as  she?  I  have  no  skill  in  the  tender  subtleties  of 
the  wenches,  Parson.  But  the  mother!  Oh,  the 
m-o-t-h-e-r!  "  He  drawled  the  word,  then  paused 
again  and  cocked  his  head  to  one  side,  and  drew 
down  the  corners  of  his  mouth  in  a  comical  way. 
"  Saint  George,  but  'tis  enough  to  turn  vinegar 
to  sugar  to  hear  her  loll  that  title,  '  Pr-r-ince,'  on 
her  tongue,  turning  it  over  and  over  like  a  sweet- 
meat, and  tasting  it  on  all  sides.  Why,  'tis  the 
jest  of  the  mess-room  —  behind  the  Prince's 
back,  mind  you,  for  he  plays  a  clever  blade  when 
he  has  the  courage  to  use  it." 

I  think  my  hand  gripped  his  arm  a  little  tighter 
as  my  mind  drew  for  me  a  picture  of  the  sacrifice 
this  girl  was  making  in  the  name  of  duty.  I 
made  no  reply,  for,  in  truth,  had  I  parted  my 
lips  a  flood  of  most  unministerial  words  would 
have  rolled  out.  We  went  up  the  stairs  in  silence 
and  found  ourselves  on  a  broad  landing,  from 
which  wide  hallways  led,  and  spacious  doorways 
revealed  rooms  brilliant  with  candle-light,  as  was 
the  landing.  From  some  room  below  came  the 
subdued  notes  of  the  riddles  and  hautboys  in 
rhythmic  melody. 


/   TURN   CLERGYMAN         301 

"  Look!  "  whispered  Colburn,  waving  his  hand 
towards  the  open  door  of  a  room  in  front  of  us. 

Sweet  heaven,  his  word  was  tardy,  for  my  eyes 
had  already  fixed  on  the  picture  before  me.  In 
a  mahogany  chair  sat  a  girl,  gowned  in  creamy 
silk  cut  low,  and  revealing  a  shoulder  whose 
whiteness  shamed  the  snow  on  the  hills;  her 
hair  was  adorned  with  a  cluster  of  flowers  tucked 
in  among  the  billowy  masses  where  the  candle- 
light revealed  coppery  glints.  On  a  table  before 
her  rested  her  outstretched  arms;  her  head  was 
drooped  slightly,  every  lineament  denoting  medi- 
tation. Her  profile  was  revealed  to  me,  and  in 
her  cheek  I  saw  no  glow. 

"  Gayle  Langford!  "  I  exclaimed,  softly. 

He  glanced  quickly  at  me.  "  How  know  you 
that?  " 

I  felt  the  blood  mount  to  my  face.  "I  —  the 
bride  —  I  could  not  fail  to  surmise,"  I  replied,  in 
confusion. 

"  Saint  George,  no!  God  fashioned  but  one  — 
and  for  a  Hessian  —  "  He  broke  off  abruptly. 
"  Come,  let  me  present  you." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   MATCHLESS    MAID 

NOW,  indeed,  was  I  come  to  one  of  the 
crucial  moments  of  my  reckless  life,  and 
my  heart  beat  fast  during  those  few  steps 
that  carried  us  into  the  room  where  she  had  sat 
alone.     And  then  we  stood  before  her  as  she 
dropped  her  arms  from  the  table  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  our  faces. 

"  Mistress  Langford,  'tis  a  most  gracious  honor 
that  is  mine,  the  ill-deserved  privilege  of  present- 
ing to  you  the  clergyman  whom  you  await. 
Permit  me  —  the  Reverend  Jonathan  Collen- 
baugh." 

"  And  may  it  prove  that  joy  comes  with  me," 
I  said  in  the  heavy  tone  I  had  assumed,  and  with 
a  most  unusual  sweep  to  my  bow  in  order  to  the 
the  better  avert  my  face. 

I  saw  her  bend  in  a  curtsy  of  delicious  grace, 
and  then  I  raised  my  head  and  looked  into  her 
eyes. 

302 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         303 

"  I  fear  it  has  been  a  most  distressing  journey 
to  which  the  whim  of  an  o'erfoolish  maid  sum- 
moned you,"  she  was  saying.  "  But  I  did  not  — 
know  —  the  weather  — •  " 

Amazement  had  leaped  to  her  eyes,  and  a 
wave  of  red  rushed  to  her  cheeks  as  her  gaze  fixed 
on  my  face.  Then  the  color  faded  and  the  deathly 
whiteness  of  marble  was  in  her  face.  There  was 
a  sudden  gasp  deep  in  her  throat  and  her  body 
swayed. 

"  Saint  George!  What  ails  you,  child?  "  cried 
Colburn,  springing  forward  and  catching  her 
arm.  "A  sudden  illness?  Let  me  summon  the 
ladies." 

"  No,  no,  Captain!  "  The  words  were  husky, 
but  her  body  no  longer  swayed.  "  It  is  —  it  is  — 
why  —  cannot  a  bride  —  affect  a  swoon  without  — 
the  house  being  aroused?  "  The  wraith  of  a  smile 
came  to  her  lips  and  she  turned  her  gaze  from 
me  to  the  grenadier. 

"  Affect?  There's  not  another  maid  in  all  the 
Colonies  would  have  come  out  of  that  without  a 
pillbag  fussing  over  her." 

"  You  English  have  an  ever  ready  stock  of 
compliments,  Captain.  I  am  beholden  to  you." 

"  And  you  double  my  amazement  and  admira- 
tion by  your  clever  play  of  words,  which  any  man 


3o4  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

with  the  brains  of  a  lout  can  see  are  but  skirmishes 
to  enable  you  to  rally  your  forces.  Mistress,  your 
fettered  slave."  And  the  gallant  fellow  swept  her 
a  courteous  bow.  "  Were  it  a  century  earlier  I 
would  duel  the  Prince  for  your  smile." 

"  Command  of  self  is  most  commendable  in 
maid  or  man,"  spake  I. 

Her  eyes  came  back  to  mine  and  for  a  few 
breaths  I  stood  looking  into  their  depths,  trying 
to  read  my  fate.  A  word  from  her  and  I  was 
doomed.  I  saw  the  amazement  and  bewilderment 
slowly  fade,  and  in  their  stead  came  a  cold  hauteur 
with  the  old,  proud  poise  of  the  head.  Then  she 
spoke. 

"  'Tis  very  true,  —  ah, —  reverend  sir,  that  both 
maids  and  men  sometimes  are  guilty  of  most 
detestable  actions."  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
import  of  her  words. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  lady,"  cried  Colburn,  "  you 
quite  mistake  the  Parson's  meaning,  I  am  sure. 
He  —  " 

"  Pray  do  not  be  too  heedful  of  our  little  ex- 
change, Captain  Colburn,"  she  interrupted.  "  I 
attach  no  special  significance  to  Reverend  Collen- 
baugh's  remark  —  and  I  am  very  certain  that  he 
did  not  in  the  slightest  misunderstand  my  mean- 
ing —  er  —  did  you,  Reverend  Collenbaugh?  " 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         305 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  me  again  and  the 
mockery  I  saw  playing  there  sent  the  blood  to 
my  cheeks. 

"  Not  in  the  slightest  degree,"  I  replied,  with 
a  feeling  that  I  was  being  humiliated. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  doorway  and  Erasmus 
entered. 

"  'Scuse  me,  but  a  sojer  down-stairs  done  ask 
me  ter  say  dat  de  Cap'n  of  de  Guard  was  wanted 
below." 

"  Tell  them  I'll  be  down  at  once,"  said  Colburn. 

I  saw  the  girl  watching  the  darky  closely  and 
divined  that  she  was  seeking  to  detect  any  sign 
of  recognition  of  me.  But  the  old  fellow  paid  not 
the  slightest  heed  to  me,  and  I  thought  I  saw  a 
faint  look  of  relief  come  into  her  eyes,  where  her 
emotions  always  were  plainly  writ. 

"  Duty!  Duty!  'Tis  a  stern  master  we  of  the 
army  serve,"  exclaimed  Colburn,  but  his  tone  was 
gay  as  ever.  "  'Tis 

1  A  word  and  a  bow  to  beauty, 
Then  away  at  the  beck  of  Duty.' " 

"  And  duty  is  not  always  pleasant,"  I  said. 
"  Saint  George,  no !    Here  we  have  been  chasing 
Washington's  men  across  country  and  shooting 


3o6  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

a  few  of  the  rebels  now  and  then  because  it  was 
our  duty,  but  I'll  vow  'twould  have  been  more  to 
my  liking  to  give  the  poor  beggars  warm  coats 
and  a  stomach  full  of  food." 

"May  God  bless  your  noble  heart!"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

"  And  to-night  the  ragamuffins  are  freezing 
and  starving  just  across  the  Delaware. ' '  He  struck 
the  hilt  of  his  sword  sharply.  "  Poor  beggars! 
Poor,  wretched  beggars!  "  he  said,  softly. 

"  Aye,  they  freeze  beyond  the  Delaware  while 
the  King's  men  revel  in  —  this!"  I  stretched 
out  my  arms  with  a  gesture  that  encompassed 
the  comforts  and  brilliance  of  the  building. 

Gayle  Langford  said  nothing,  but,  slowly 
turning  away,  she  sank  into  a  chair.  I  tried  to 
catch  her  eyes,  but  her  face  was  averted,  arms 
resting  on  the  table. 

"  And  yet,  did  they  but  know  it,  'twould  be 
easy  for  the  rebels  to  seize  this  town.  If  —  " 

"Captain  Colburn!"  cried  the  girl,  facing 
towards  him  suddenly,  and  flinging  up  one  hand 
with  an  imperious  gesture.  "  Have  a  care  how 
you  discuss  a  possible  weakness  in  the  presence 
of  a  stranger  —  even  though  he  be  a  clergyman." 
She  shot  me  a  swift  glance. 

Colburn  laughed  easily.     "  I  accept  the  repri- 


A  MATCHLESS   MAID         307 

mand,  Mistress  Langford,  but,  in  truth,  we  could 
put  every  picket  in  bed  with  perfect  safety  this 
night,  for  no  army  on  earth  could  cross  the 
Delaware  in  its  present  condition." 

"But  this  Washington  —  does  he  not  delight 
in  doing  that  which  the  King's  officers  declare 
cannot  be  done?  " 

A  shadow  rested  on  his  face  a  moment.  "  There 
is  much  of  truth  in  your  words,  yet  he  is  but 
human.  But  I  must  descend  at  once  or  that  poor 
old  servant  of  yours  will  be  climbing  the  stairs 
once  more  after  me.  I'll  warrant  those  yagers 
have  been  cursing  monstrously  because  I  have 
not  come." 

He  bowed  and  turned  away,  but  at  the  door  he 
paused,  and  looked  back. 

"  By  the  way,  Mistress  Langford,  I  will  seek 
the  Prince  and  inform  him  that  the  clergyman  has 
arrived.  'Twill  be  a  most  charming  message  —  " 

"  No,  no,  no!  "  she  cried,  springing  to  her  feet. 
"  You  must  not,  Captain,  you  must  not!  "  He 
looked  at  her  in  surprise,  and  she  caught  herself. 
"  Tis  but  a  bit  of  sentiment,  Captain,  but  let  me 
tell  my  fiance  that  bit  of  news.  Come,  Captain, 
your  promise  of  silence." 

Her  laugh  rang  blithe,  but  the  marble  was  in 
her  cheeks. 


3o8  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

"  My  sacred  promise,"  was  the  grenadier's 
smiling  reply,  and  then  he  passed  down  the 
stairs. 

We  were  alone.  There  was  a  moment  in  which 
no  word  was  spoken,  a  moment  when  the  rhythmic 
notes  of  the  hautboys  and  fiddles  seemed  throb- 
bing themselves  into  my  brain.  Then  she  turned 
to  me,  and  her  tone  was  tense  as  she  asked : 

"  Captain  Lester,  why  are  you  here?  " 

Her  eyes  were  burning  into  mine;  the  mask 
she  had  worn  had  fallen  away,  and  instead  of 
the  laugh  that  had  burst  from  her  lips  there  was 
something  akin  to  a  sob  in  her  voice.  For  a  few 
heart-beats  the  danger  was  forgotten  and  I  felt 
only  the  thrill  of  her  presence,  of  being  near  her; 
and  if  I  had  confessed  to  myself  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Delaware  that  I  loved  her,  with  what  a 
mighty  sweep  was  it  flooding  my  heart  now  with 
her  before  me  in  all  her  warm,  pulsating  beauty, 
and  with  the  events  of  this  evening  revealing 
new  beauties  of  her  character!  Small  wonder 
was  it  if  I  stood  dumb. 

"  Why,  please?  "  she  repeated. 

"  I  came  for  your  sake!  "  I  said,  and  the  fervor 
of  my  words  sent  a  bit  of  color  to  her  face. 

"  A  riddle,  sir.     For  my  sake?  " 

"  Aye,  for  your  sake.    I  have  taken  my  life  in 


A  MATCHLESS   MAID         3°9 

my  hand  that  I  might  save  you  from  this  mon- 
strous sacrifice!  " 

There  was  a  faint  gasp,  a  quick  intaking  of  her 
breath.  Then  her  eyes  showed  naught  but  the 
coldness  of  winter. 

"  Enough  of  this  masquerade,"  she  said. 
"  Doubtless  you  have  gained  all  of  the  informa- 
tion you  sought.  You  have  now  an  opportunity 
for  escape.  Take  it  and  go  at  once.  I  have  not 
forgotten  that  I  owe  you  much,  else  I  could  not 
permit  the  escape  of  a  spy!  " 

The  red  burned  in  my  cheeks  at  this.  '  You 
mistake.  I  am  not  here  as  a  spy,  though  I  left 
camp  on  a  scout." 

"  A  '  scout '  in  the  enemy's  lines  in  disguise?  " 
There  was  a  world  of  scorn  in  her  tones. 

"I  met  Collenbaugh  on  the  road  —  a  pistol- 
muzzle  under  his  nose  and  he  traded  me  this  garb 
for  my  uniform.  God,  it  was  the  only  way!  He 
was  coming  here  to  bind  you  in  marriage  to  —  : 

"  To  one  I  promised  to  wed." 

"  Doubtless,  but  whom  you  do  not  love.  You 
cannot  love  him.  You  would  never  wed  such  as 
he  save  —  " 

"  Silence,  sir!  Have  done  with  these  insults. 
There  may  yet  be  time  for  you  to  escape." 

"  And  though  he  donned  a  stolen  uniform  and 


310  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

left  you  to  the  protection  of  a  stranger  that  July 
night,  you  still  would  wed  him?  " 

It  seemed  to  me  a  slight  shiver  passed  over  her. 

"  The  Prince  is  not  ever  ready  to  brawl,  'tis 
true,  like  —  some  —  but  - 

"  I  have  not  brawled  except  to  resent  insults 
to  —  to  —  " 

I  hesitated,  seeing  whither  my  sudden  exas- 
peration had  led  me. 

"  To  some  tavern  maid.  Doubtless  the  seeking 
of  her  smiles  by  another  was  ample  cause  for  it 
all." 

She  sank  down  into  the  chair  again,  and  I 
stood  looking  at  her  dumbly. 

"  I  confess,  Captain,  that  quite  unintentionally 
I  overheard  Major  Wilmoth's  words  that  day  in 
the  farmhouse  when  he  ministered  to  your  broken 
head.  I  chanced  —  Ah,  please  come  in,  mother. 
The  bride-elect  is  quite  deserted." 

She  had  risen  suddenly  to  her  feet  and  was 
holding  out  her  hands  to  some  one  behind  her. 
I  heard  the  swish  of  skirts,  and,  turning,  saw  Mrs. 
Langford  entering  the  room. 

"  Let  me  present  —  Reverend  Collenbaugh, 
mother." 

The  elder  lady  surveyed  me  critically  through 
her  lorgnette,  after  a  stately  acknowledgment, 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         311 

and  I  wondered  if  she  would  recognize  the  reckless 
courier  who  had  thrown  the  banquet  into  a 
turmoil. 

"  There  is  something  about  your  features  that 
seems  familiar,  sir,"  she  said. 

"  A  fact  not  altogether  singular,"  I  replied. 
"  Utter  strangers  have  often  impressed  me  thus." 

"  It  seems  that  I  have  certainly  seen  you 
somewhere,"  she  persisted. 

"  No  doubt  in  our  drives  about  Philadelphia," 
said  the  girl.  "  You  have  often  been  there,  have 
you  not,  Mr.  Collenbaugh?  " 

"  I  have  been  there,"  I  replied. 

"  Where  is  the  Prince?  "  asked  Mrs.  Langford, 
turning  to  the  girl. 

"  Doubtless,  below  stairs  with  Colonel  Rahl.  I 
have  not  seen  him  since  candle-light." 

"  The  dear  fellow  is  such  a  favorite  with  the 
officers,"  said  the  old  dame  to  me,  cooingly. 
"  They  insist  on  his  being  with  them  every 
possible  moment,  for  now  that  nothing  remains 
of  this  sinful  revolution  but  a  few  ragged  adven- 
turers beyond  the  Delaware,  the  Prince  expects 
to  return  to  his  estates  soon  after  the  wedding." 

"  And  of  course  you  will  accompany  them?  " 
There  was  a  question  in  my  tone. 

"  Yes  —  yes,  I  suppose  so.     The  dear  Prince 


3i2  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

insisted  that  the  wedding  be  celebrated  here  at 
once,  so  he  could  arrange  to  return.  Of  course, 
it  is  just  a  little  soon  after  —  after  Mr.  Lang- 
ford's  death  —  but  the  Prince  is  so  devoted  to 
my  daughter  —  and  it  will  be  a  very  simple 
affair  —  and  Gayle  loves  the  Prince  so  well!  " 

"  Tis  proper  enough,"  I  said,  but  my  eyes  were 
on  the  girl,  whose  face  was  averted. 

"  O  dear  me,  I  am  sure  it  is  or  I  should  never 
have  consented  to  the  dear  Prince's  importuni- 
ties," replied  the  mother,  grandly,  and  I  found 
myself  smiling  at  the  remembrance  of  what  the 
Captain  of  the  Guard  had  said  about  her  lolling 
the  title  on  her  tongue. 

The  girl  walked  slowly  to  the  window  and  stood 
leaning  on  the  casement,  looking  out  at  the 
blinding  whirl  of  snow.  She  kept  her  face  well 
from  me,  but  there  was  naught  of  joy  and  blissful 
anticipation  in  her  attitude.  Rather  was  it  the 
air  of  one  who  had  nerved  herself  to  the  meeting 
of  a  certain  crisis,  and  who  would  not  harbor  a 
thought  to  the  contrary.  The  mother  glanced 
towards  her,  and  then,  leaning  towards  me,  said 
in  a  low  tone: 

"  And  you  know  that  a  mother  must  always 
protect  her  daughter  against  youthful  follies. 
Sometimes  romance  blinds  a  maid  to  —  ah  —  her 


A  MATCHLESS   MAID         313 

real  love  and  —  ah  —  interests.  Gayle  loves  the 
Prince  very  dearly,  but  a  dashing  young  rebel 
officer  did  her  a  —  ah  —  great  service  some 
months  ago,  and  she  was  really  a  bit  distant  to 
the  dear  Prince  for  a  few  weeks.  But  she  came  to 
see  that  I  was  right  in  my  counsels, —  my  mother's 
love,  you  know,  —  and  soon  she  had  quite  for- 
gotten the  rebel  and  was  willing  to  grant  the  dear 
Prince's  plea  for  an  early  marriage.  Do  you  not 
think  I  was  right  in  my  —  ah  —  counsels, 
Reverend  Collenbaugh?  " 

"  A  mother  who  pleads  for  her  daughter's  best 
interests  is  always  to  be  commended,"  I  replied, 
bowing. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  would  say  I  did  right,"  she 
exclaimed  eagerly,  though,  in  truth,  I  had  said 
nothing  of  the  kind,  as  you  will  agree. 

"  I  must  see  to  other  duties  now.  Tis  less  than 
an  hour  until  the  ceremony,  a  very  trying  ordeal 
for  a  maid.  My  daughter  may  become  —  ah  — 
nervous,  you  know,  and  —  ah  —  I  am  sure  you 
will  advise  her  rightly  should  she  —  ah  —  say 
aught  to  you." 

"  Of  that  you  maybe  assured,"  I  replied,  but 
the  sarcasm  of  my  speech  was  not  caught. 

She  cooed  her  thanks  and  then  swept  from  the 
room,  after  a  hesitating  look  towards  the  girl  at 


314  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

the  window.  I  sank  into  the  chair  by  the  table 
and  put  one  hand  to  my  throbbing  temples.  I 
had  been  right.  'Twas  a  sacrifice,  a  cruel  sacrifice, 
Gayle  Langford  was  making  of  herself  on  the 
altar  of  her  mother's  ambition  —  and  the  mother 
herself,  now  that  the  ceremony  was  about  to  be 
consummated,  was  feeling  a  faint  twinge  of 
conscience,  hence  her  appeal  to  the  pretended 
clergyman  for  endorsement.  And  in  her  heart 
was  a  fear  that  the  girl  might  falter  at  the  last 
moment  and  cry  out  to  the  minister.  But  another 
thought  jerked  me  out  of  the  chair,  and  set  me 
to  pacing  the  room.  Gayle  Langford  sped  across 
the  room  and  confronted  me. 

"  Captain  Lester,"  she  said,  "  how  long  do  you 
expect  to  remain  here?  Surely,  you  do  not  plan 
to  perform  a  ceremony  that  will  be  a  mock- 
ery! " 

"No,  there  will  be  no  wedding  to-night!  " 
"  You  presume  too  far,  sir.  Am  I  to  permit 
you  to  stop  my  wedding  simply  because  you  once 
saved  me  from  a  pack  of  your  rebel  wolves?  I 
have  offered  you  an  opportunity  to  escape.  I 
offer  it  again.  Go  at  once  before  Rahl  and  his 
officers  ascend  the  stairs.  I  shall  summon  an 
army  chaplain  and  have  the  marriage  proceed  in 
spite  of  your  interference." 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         315 

"  You  would  marry  that  poltroon  in  spite  of 
all?  "  I  asked,  thoroughly  exasperated. 

"  Tis  wondrous  brave  to  insult  a  man  in  his 
absence!  "  There  was  a  scorn  in  her  voice  that 
stung  me. 

"  Summon  him,  then,  and  if  it  be  that  he  has 
the  courage  to  resent  an  insult  I  will  save  you 
from  this  marriage." 

"  What  mean  you?  "  The  words  were  but  little 
more  than  a  gasp. 

"  That  I  am  the  better  swordsman,  and  a 
thrust  will  avenge  me  and  save  you." 

She  darted  to  the  doorway,  and  then  faced  me 
again. 

"  This  one  last  chance  I  offer  you!  "  she  cried. 
"  Go  now  or  I  call  the  guard!  " 

I  folded  my  arms.  "  I  am  waiting  your  call," 
I  replied. 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  in  that 
moment  a  prodigious  babble  of  voices  came  to 
us  from  below,  there  were  a  few  sharp  words  of 
command,  and  the  hubbub  ceased.  Then  we  heard 
a  heavy  step  on  the  stairs.  With  a  startled  look 
on  her  face  the  girl  retreated  from  the  doorway, 
but  I  breathed  more  freely  when  I  saw  the 
Captain  of  the  Guard  approaching.  He  turned 
his  eyes  on  me  with  a  searching  look. 


3i6  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  A  most  extraordinary  incident,  Parson,"  he 
said.  "  The  guards  have  brought  in  a  fellow  in 
a  ragged  rebel  uniform,  and,  by  the  flesh  of  the 
devil,  he  was  crazy  enough  to  swear  he  was  Rev- 
erend Collenbaugh,  that  he  had  been  robbed  of  his 
clothes,  and  had  by  rare  good  luck  found  a 
countryman  coming  this  way,  with  whom  he 
rode  to  the  town.  Twas  a  rambling  tale  of 
pistols,  vacant  cabins,  and  bandits." 

"  I  trust  that  you  dealt  gently  with  the  poor 
fellow,"  I  replied  piously.  "  He  must,  indeed, 
be  sadly  deranged." 

'  Yes,  to  be  sure.  You  know  there  can  be  but 
one  Reverend  Collenbaugh.  I  confess  I  have  not 
known  the  clergy  as  intimately  as  my  soul's  welfare 
demands,  but  I  picked  you  to  be  the  real  parson." 
He  laughed  merrily.  "  What  think  you,  Mistress 
Langford?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  able  to  answer  positively  to  this  gentle- 
man's identity,  for  I  find  that  we  have  known 
each  other  before  to-night." 

She  smiled  sweetly  and  the  officer  seized  a 
conclusion. 

"  Then  all  doubt  is  removed.  Parson,  you  are 
fortunate,  for  I  confess  that  had  she  not  known 
you  some  embarrassment  might  have  resulted." 

"  We  certainly  have  known  each  other  before 


A  MATCHLESS   MAID         317 

to-night,  Captain,"  I  responded.  "  May  I  sug- 
gest a  comfortable  nook  in  the  guard-house  for 
the  other  man?  No  doubt  he  is  demented,  and, 
having  heard  of  my  mission,  he  —  ah,  I  have  it! 
Is  he  a  man  much  of  my  build,  with  an  inclina- 
tion to  baldness  that  should  be  covered  by  a  wig, 
and  with  one  finger  of  his  left  hand  gone  at  the 
knuckle?  "  I  described  the  real  Collenbaugh. 

"  Those  very  things  I  noticed,"  replied  Colburn. 

"  I  thought  as  much.  I  remember  pausing  at 
a  farmhouse  to  warm  myself,  and  the  poor  fellow 
who  was  my  host  was  most  inquisitive  as  to  my 
journey.  It  came  to  me  then  that  his  mind  was 
not  right.  Guard  him  and  care  for  him  properly, 
I  pray  you,  for  he  has  done  no  wrong." 

"  Have  no  fear.  You  ministers  are  too  tender- 
hearted for  these  days  of  war.  I  cannot  tarry 
longer,  as  'tis  time  for  the  changing  of  the 
guard." 

Gayle  Langford  and  I  stood  looking  into  each 
other's  eyes  after  he  had  left  us.  I  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"  It  was  good  of  you,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  of  you  to  go.  'Tis  not  possible  your 
masquerade  can  long  be  successful.  Why  will  you 
not  heed  my  words?  Why  will  you  not?  " 

No  longer  was  she  the  haughty,  imperious  one, 


3i8  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

but  a  pleading,  beseeching  maid  near  to  tears, 
and  with  a  suspicion  of  a  sob  in  her  throat. 

"  Mayhap  you  are  right,  that  I  should  go. 
But  'tis  not  the  danger  that  prompts  the  words. 
It  and  I  have  been  companions  during  many  bitter 
months.  Tore  God,  Mistress  —  Gayle  —  I  came 
but  in  the  hope  of  in  some  way  saving  you  from 
this  marriage,  and  even  now  I  would  remain  and 
give  my  life  if  need  be  to  prevent  a  sacrifice,  but 
you  have  declared  that  you  will  wed  the  Prince 
in  spite  of  my  efforts,  and  so  I  will  bid  you 
farewell." 

Her  hands  were  clasped,  and  her  head  had 
dropped  as  I  spoke,  but  now  she  raised  her  eyes 
and  I  saw  tears  trembling  on  the  long  lashes. 
The  wail  of  the  fiddles  and  hautboys  had  begun 
again  in  a  sadly  sweet  strain. 

"  Farewell?    Tis  a  sad  word,  Captain,  but  - 
yes,  I  know  'tis  well  chosen.     It  must,  indeed, 
be  —  farewell.    I  am  grateful  —  you  do  not  know 
how  grateful  —  but  I  want  you  to  remember  me 
as  happy  in  my  marriage." 

"  Happy?  'Tis  the  one  word  that  bids  me  go. 
Should  I  tarry  longer  'twould  be  but  selfishness 
prompting." 

"  Selfishness  f  " 

"  Aye,  girl.     Need  the  words  be  spoken  to  tell 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         319 

you  that  I  love  you,  that  I  came  hoping  to  bear 
you  away  from  here  —  where,  I  hardly  knew? 
I  knew  only  that  I  felt  you  were  needing  a  strong 
arm,  and  so  I  came,  trusting  that  I  might  serve 
you.  I  was  wrong  in  it  all  —  and  so  'tis  farewell." 

"  You  love  me?  "  she  asked,  and  there  was  a 
light,  a  baffling  light,  behind  the  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Love  you?  I  —  "  Something  choked  in 
my  throat,  and  my  hands  clenched  until  the  nails 
cut  into  the  palms. 

"  I  — am  truly  sorry,"  she  said.  "  You  have 
done  so  much  —  " 

"  No,  no,  no!  What  I  have  done  was  but 
trifling  compared  to  this!  " 

I  thrust  my  hand  into  my  shirt  front  and  drew 
out  a  blood-stained  kerchief,  which  I  pressed  to 
my  lips. 

"  And  in  a  dim  hallway  some  one  fought  to  the 
death  for  me." 

There  was  a  half -smothered  cry,  and  a  wave  of 
red  suffused  her  face. 

"  Could  you  see  — •  "    She  paused  in  confusion. 

"All  —  the  attack  and  retreat.  And  later  I 
found  the  blade  —  and  the  clothes." 

"  You  must  forget  it!  Indeed,  you  must!  Oh, 
the  shame  of  it!  " 


320  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Oh,  the  glory  of  it!  "  I  cried. 

"  But  you  must  not  delay.  You  can  go  forth 
now  unmolested.  If  you  will  have  it  so,  our 
debts  to  each  other  are  paid.  Captain,  farewell." 

She  reached  out  one  dainty  hand,  and  I,  great, 
rough  fellow,  seized  it  and  bent  low  over  it, 
kissing  the  soft  fingers  much  too  fervidly.  And 
when  I  turned  away  the  candles  were  dancing 
unsteadily  through  the  mist  that  blurred  my  eyes. 

But  a  voice  in  the  hallway  below  brought  a 
faint  cry  from  the  girl,  and  I  paused,  for  well  I 
knew  those  tones  that  were  raised  in  the  lilt  of 
some  German  ballad. 

"The  Prince  is  coming!"  Her  words  were 
heavy  with  despair. 

"  Have  no  fear,"  I  said,  the  scent  of  danger 
fetching  a  smile  to  my  lips,  for  in  my  present 
mood  I  would  have  welcomed  action. 

"  Your  disguise  will  not  deceive  him." 

"  Then  I  can  fight,"  I  replied. 

"  No,  you  must  not."  The  singer  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs.  "  You  must  hide!  " 

"  'Tis  a  poor  word  for  a  soldier  to  learn,  I 
pledge  you." 

"  But  for  my  sake!  "  The  singer  was  ascending 
the  stairs.  "  You  will  for  my  sake?  " 

The  struggle  with  my  pride  was  sharp  but 


A  MATCHLESS   MAID         321 

short.  "  You  know  you  have  but  to  command," 
I  said.  "  I  have  run  and  dodged  for  you  before. 
So  will  I  now.  Where?  " 

She  had  run  to  the  doorway  and  looked  hurriedly 
about.  She  faced  me  with  cheeks  of  marble. 

"  There  is  not  where  " —  She  paused;  then 
darting  across  the  room,  she  jerked  back  the 
heavy  curtains  and  revealed  to  me  a  daintily 
furnished  bedroom.  "Yes!  Inhere!  Quickly!" 

"  But  they  will  search.  I  will  be  caught  in  a 
trap.  Better  had  I  fight  now!  " 

"  No,  no!  They  will  not  dare  to  search  here !  " 
The  scarlet  was  flaming  in  her  cheeks  again. 
"It  is  —  my  —  sleeping-room."  The  singer  was 
nearing  the  landing.  "  For  my  sake! "  she 
whispered,  and  I  plunged  into  the  room,  the  cur- 
tains fell,  and  I  was  in  gloom.  And  there  I  stood, 
listening  to  what  took  place  beyond  the  curtains. 

"  Ah,  did  you,  indeed,  think  your  bride  entitled 
to  a  moment  of  your  time?  "  The  question  was 
in  a  playful,  chaffing  tone. 

"  Every  moment  has  my  heart  been  with  you, 
my  promised  one,"  replied  the  Prince,  his  English 
smooth. 

If  I  could  but  see!  But  how  simple.  I  smiled 
as  I  cautiously  pulled  back  one  edge  of  the  curtain. 
She  had  stepped  towards  the  Prince,  who  had 


322  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

paused  to  bow  to  her.  How  well  he  looked  in 
his  rich  crimson  satins,  with  immaculately  white 
cuffs  of  lace,  and  a  waistcoat  of  purest  white  silk! 

"  Every  moment?  Then  pardon  must  be 
yours." 

She  laughed  gaily,  and  I  felt  my  heart  throb 
with  admiration.  What  a  superb  woman  she  was ! 

"  Pardon?  And  nothing  more?  May  I  not 
have  your  lips,  my  beloved?  " 

He  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  'twas  well  that 
he  was  not  watching  the  curtain,  for  a  man  behind 
it  clenched  his  hands  so  suddenly  that  the  curtain 
was  swayed  violently. 

"  No,  no!  "  she  cried,  springing  aside.  "  That 
must  not  be  until  I  am  —  your  wife." 

I  looked  at  the  Prince,  and  the  flush  in  his 
cheeks  told  me  the  story  of  the  wine-cup.  A 
frown  rested  on  his  brow  a  moment,  and  then  he 
laughed. 

"  Ach,  well,  'tis  not  long  I  must  wait."  Then 
he  looked  about  the  room.  "  Your  dear  mother 
told  me  the  minister  was  here." 

"Oh,  then  you  did  not  meet  him  on  the  stair- 
way, did  you?  " 

"  On  the  stairway?  I  met  no  one.  Where  did 
he  go?  " 

"  He  did  not  tell  me  where  he  was  going,  and  I 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         323 

did  not  notice  him  after  he  left  this  room,  but  I 
know  he  started  towards  the  stairs." 

"  Soon  he  will  return,  and  I  am  granted  a  few 
moments  with  you  alone  until  then." 

She  sank  into  a  chair  and  he  seated  himself 
close  by,  and  they  fell  to  discussing  their  plans 
for  the  future.  God's  love!  Imagine  standing 
still  as  a  mouse  and  hearing  another  man  telling 
the  girl  you  love  of  the  plans  he  has  made  for 
wedding  her  and  taking  her  to  foreign  shores! 
The  girl  had  seated  herself  facing  the  curtains, 
and  from  the  pallor  in  her  cheeks  and  the  uneasy 
looks  she  shot  to  the  curtains  at  intervals  I  knew 
that  she  was  fearing  the  very  thing  that  was  in 
my  heart  —  a  fury  that  bade  me  throw  aside  the 
curtains  and  hurl  myself  at  his  throat.  But  the 
Langford  eyes  were  ever  eloquent  and  I  read  the 
plea  in  them.  So  I  stood  silent  and  smothered 
the  flames  within  me. 

Presently,  there  was  a  rustle  of  silks,  and  the 
mother  entered.  Where  was  the  minister?  He 
had  left  the  room  but  a  few  minutes  before.  The 
old  dame  tapped  the  floor  nervously  with  her 
foot  and  glanced  sharply  at  the  girl,  evidently 
suspecting  that  she  had  conspired  to  delay  the 
wedding,  for  I  well  knew  that  the  mother  would 
know  no  peace  until  Gayle  Langford  was  a  prin- 


324  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

cess.  A  few  more  minutes  and  a  burst  of  laughter 
and  a  chatter  of  voices  announced  the  coming  of 
the  guests.  I  watched  them  enter,  several  officers 
in  all  of  the  glitter  and  conceit  of  the  British  and 
Hessian  uniforms,  and  a  few  ladies  with  brocades 
and  silks  and  towering  head-dresses.  The 
musicians  assembled  in  the  hallway  and  all  was 
ready  for  the  wedding  —  all  save  the  clergyman 
who  was  to  pronounce  the  ceremony.  Gayle 
Langford  moved  about  among  her  guests  infor- 
mally, chatting,  laughing,  never  a  serious  look 
on  her  face,  but  ever  she  managed  to  hover  close 
to  the  curtains,  and,  at  intervals,  I  could  see  her 
flash  a  glance  towards  them. 

The  hour  for  the  ceremony  passed,  and  Mrs. 
Langford  was  near  to  hysterics  at  the  absence  of 
Collenbaugh.  The  Captain  of  the  Guard  was 
appealed  to,  and  with  clanking  sword  strode  here 
and  there,  questioning,  searching,  while  the  others 
of  the  party  promenaded  in  the  hallway.  Finally 
Colburn  came  back  into  the  room  and  marched 
directly  towards  the  room  where  I  stood,  but 
Gayle  Langford,  wary  and  watchful,  turned, 
laughing,  from  the  Prince's  side  and  glided  in 
front  of  the  officer,  laying  her  hand  gently  on  his 
arm. 

"  Not  that  room,  please,  Captain,"  she  whis- 


A  MATCHLESS  MAID         325 

pered,  and  smiled  up  into  his  face,  the  color  once 
more  mounting  to  her  own  cheeks.  "  Tis  my 
sleeping-room." 

"  And,  therefore,  most  sacred,"  he  responded, 
facing  about. 

There  was  a  babble  of  voices  again  when  the 
Captain  of  the  Guard  announced  that  the  minister 
was  not  to  be  found.  The  guard  had  been  changed 
but  recently,  and  therefore  it  could  not  be  learned 
when  he  had  left  the  house.  Mrs.  Langford 
sought  the  consolation  of  tears,  and  begged  her 
daughter  to  accept  the  services  of  an  army 
chaplain. 

"  I  will  not  this  night,"  she  declared.    "  Colonel 
Rahl's  wine-flasks  have  been  too  seductive.    Per- 
haps Reverend  Collenbaugh  may  return.    If  not  — 
then  the  chaplain  at  noon  to-morrow,  providing 
he  is  sober." 

I  smiled  grimly  at  this,  for  I  hoped  that  by 
noon  on  the  morrow  the  Continental  army  would 
be  masters  in  Trenton. 

Then  the  musicians  were  ordered  back  to  their 
former  stations,  and  soon  the  gaieties  below  were 
claiming  attention.  Mrs.  Langford  had  been 
taken  in  charge  by  the  other  women,  who  vowed 
that  she  needed  amusement,  and  the  Prince  was 
led  away  by  Rahl,  who  locked  arms  with  him 


326  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

and  swore  that  he  must  go  below  and  sing  them 
a  jolly  song.  Gayle  Langford  alone  remained, 
promising  to  join  them  presently. 

As  the  last  one  descended  the  stairs  the  girl's 
laugh  died  on  her  lips,  and,  turning,  she  almost 
staggered  back  to  a  chair.  Thrusting  aside  the 
curtains,  I  was  kneeling  at  her  side  in  an  instant 
and  pressing  a  fold  of  her  garments  to  my  lips. 

"  It  was  magnificent,"  I  said,  hoarsely. 

"  Please  do  not  kneel  there,"  she  replied, 
wearily.  "  I  want  only  that  you  should  escape 
now." 

"  'Twill  be  most  easy  to  dupe  the  guards  out- 
side if  you  can  make  sure  that  none  of  the  officers 
are  about  the  lower  hallway." 

"  That  will  I  do  at  once." 

She  arose  and  went  to  the  stairway,  I  following 
close  behind.  Half-way  down,  she  leaned  over 
the  banister  rail,  and  after  looking  carefully 
about,  turned  to  me. 

"  Your  chance,"  she  said,  and  I  ran  lightly 
down  the  stairs  to  where  she  stood.  Then  I 
paused,  looking  down  into  her  face.  Her  eyes 
dropped,  and  she  gave  me  her  hand. 

"  It  is  farewell,"  she  whispered. 

I  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  "  It  may  prove 
so,  and  it  may  not,"  I  replied,  thinking  of  the 


A  MATCHLESS   MAID         327 

ragged    battalions    probably   battling    with    the 
Delaware  at  that  moment. 

I  hurried  down  the  stairs,  but  at  the  door  I 
looked  back.  She  was  standing  where  I  had  left 
her,  clutching  the  banister  with  both  hands,  and 
for  one  brief  instant  her  eyes  burned  into  mine. 
Then  I  flung  open  the  door  and  stepped  boldly 
forth  into  the  world  without. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

"  TOOK   KEER   o'    HER   BOY  " 

HARDLY  had  I  closed  the  door  behind  me 
when  I  found  a  Hessian  soldier  confront- 
ing me. 

"  Ach,  Gott !  Is  it  not  the  preacher  man  they 
have  been  howling  for?  "  he  asked,  in  wretched 
English. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  but  I  was  lying  down 
asleep  in  a  quiet  place.  I  sat  up  late  last  night 
with  a  man  who  may  not  live  to  see  another  sun 
set." 

In  truth,  I  had  done  that  very  thing.  'Twas 
Boyd  —  and  who  could  tell  who  would  be  living 
and  who  dead  after  the  coming  battle? 

"  Well,  I  was  told  to  watch  for  this  preacher, 
but  as  you  are  coming  out  and  not  going  in,  of 
course  it's  all  right." 

"  Of  course,"  I  said.  "  It's  a  bad  night  and  I 
have  some  leagues  to  cover.  Br-r-r !  Good  night. ' ' 

Without  waiting  for  him  to  reply,  I  strode 
328 


"TOOK  KEER    O'  HER   BOY"  329 

away,  fearful  that  some  of  the  officers  would  be 
leaving  the  headquarters.  The  storm  was  in- 
creasing in  violence  and  a  strong  north  wind 
struck  chill  to  the  marrow  of  my  bones.  I  soon 
reached  the  spot  where  I  had  tied  my  horse,  and 
was  rejoiced  at  finding  the  animal  still  there, 
though  the  poor  beast  was  pawing,  and  tugging 
at  the  bridle  in  an  effort  to  break  loose.  My 
pistols  were  dry,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  in  the 
saddle,  my  spirits  bounding,  for  now  I  was  quite 
ready  to  take  my  chances  in  a  quick  dash  and  a 
sudden  firing  if  danger  threatened. 

Down  the  street  I  rode,  my  cloak  wrapped 
closely  about  me,  strains  of  music  coming  to  me 
from  the  headquarters.  The  paper  I  had  stolen 
from  Collenbaugh  passed  me  by  the  pickets 
without  trouble,  and  soon  I  was  away  from  the 
town  and  pounding  along  the  country  road.  It 
was  a  hard  journey  that  Christmas  night,  and  I 
knew  that  stern  work  lay  ahead  of  me  before  I 
was  to  know  rest.  I  passed  the  deserted  cabin 
where  I  had  traded  clothes  with  Collenbaugh, 
but  well  I  knew  that  the  unhappy  clergyman  was 
at  that  moment  under  guard  in  Trenton.  Every 
moment  I  expected  to  meet  the  advance-guard 
of  Washington's  Continentals,  and  my  heart  grew 
heavier  as  mile  after  mile  was  passed  and  no  sign 


330  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

of  them.  But  I  found  them  at  last,  a  shivering, 
suffering  handful,  crouched  on  the  Jersey  shore 
awaiting  the  coming  of  their  comrades,  who  were 
crossing  the  river  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

Seeking  the  Chief,  I  made  my  report,  omitting 
any  recital  of  the  events  that  had  befallen  me  in 
Rahl's  headquarters. 

The  hours  dragged  by,  the  flat  boats  rilled  with 
soldiers  having  perilous  voyages,  and  dawn  was 
not  many  hours  away  when  all  of  the  little  army 
were  mustered  on  the  Jersey  shore,  and  then  in 
two  divisions  and  by  separate  roads  we  began  our 
march  on  Trenton.  In  the  unloading  of  artillery 
from  the  hay  barges,  a  captain  had  suffered  a 
broken  leg,  and  it  was  ordered  that  he  be  taken 
to  the  farmhouse  near  by  for  shelter.  This  gave 
me  the  chance  I  had  been  wanting,  and  with  a 
few  words  of  explanation  I  secured  his  uniform 
in  exchange  for  Collenbaugh's  sombre  garments. 

Boyd  sought  my  side.  "  Lester,"  he  said, 
"  mayhap  there's  a  Hessian  bullet  in  yon  village 
awaiting  me.  If  you  come  back  —  and  I  do 
not  —  you  will  see  —  Mary  Wilmoth  —  and  tell 
her  —  " 

"  Aye,  comrade,  fear  not  but  that  the  maid 
shall  learn  that  the  thought  of  her  stoutened  the 
heart  of  a  soldier  to  the  very  last." 


'TOOK  KEER    O>   HER   BOY"  331 

"  And  you,  Lester;  if  you  fall  — 

"  I  have  a  great-uncle  somewhere  up  Boston 
way.  You  might  tell  him.  Doubtless  'twill  please 
him  that  I  escaped  being  hanged." 

"  Tis  a  poor  hour  for  a  jest,"  said  he,  re- 
proachfully. 

"  God's  mercy!  I  remember  of  no  hour  that 
needed  jest  more  than  this,"  I  answered,  lightly. 

"  But  is  there  no  one  to  —  to  care?  " 

"  None." 

I  saw  him  look  at  me  as  though  about  to  speak, 
but  no  word  passed  his  lips  and  we  went  forward 
in  silence  after  that.  The  snow  had  about  half 
turned  to  sleet  and  increased  the  misery  of  the 
plodding  soldiers. 

'Twas  broad  day  when  we  halted  a  moment  at 
the  outskirts  of  Trenton.  Then  a  report  from 
General  Sullivan  that  he  was  ready  to  strike  on 
the  other  side  of  the  town,  and  we  went  forward, 
soon  being  greeted  by  the  sound  of  skirmish 
firing  from  beyond.  It  put  life  and  warmth  into 
the  chilled  bodies,  and  soon  our  own  division  was 
cheering  merrily  as  we  fought.  Rahl  tried  des- 
perately to  rally  his  men  and  turn  the  tide  of 
battle  that  had  turned  against  him  at  the  first 
volley,  but  he  could  not. 

A  Continental  battery  was  dragged  past  me 


332  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

and  I  saw  the  gunners  training  it  on  the  building 
where  but  a  few  hours  before  the  fiddles  and  the 
hautboys  had  made  merry  music. 

"Don't  fire;  for  God's  sake,  don't  fire!"  I 
shouted,  throwing  myself  across  the  cannon. 

"What  ails  the  man?"  exclaimed  the  com- 
mander. 

"  There  are  women  there  —  in  that  house  — 
the  soldiers  are  in  the  streets!  "  I  cried. 

The  muzzle  was  swung  to  one  side  and  soon 
the  gun  was  roaring.  But  little  more  than  half 
an  hour  of  bloody  work,  and  word  came  that  Rahl 
had  struck  his  colors,  and  when  the  Hessian 
gave  up  his  sword  'twas  seen  that  his  life  would 
also  soon  be  given  up,  for  a  wound  in  his  breast 
was  drenching  his  brilliant  uniform  with  blood. 

I  made  my  way  to  the  headquarters.  No 
longer  were  cannons  standing  in  front  of  the 
building.  Here  and  there  lay  men  to  whom  the 
struggle  meant  nothing  further.  Marks  of  bullets 
were  plainly  to  be  seen  on  the  house,  and  a  dread 
was  upon  me  as  I  rushed  up  to  the  door.  In  the 
hallway  I  came  face  to  face  with  old  Erasmus. 

"  Glory  be  ter  God!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Hyar's 
little  Marse  Ian!  Glory  be  ter  God!  "  And  his 
black  arms  went  about  me  in  an  embrace  of 
unfaltering  love. 


'TOOK  KEER    O'  HER   BOY'1  333 

"  The  Langfords,  Rassle,  what  of  them?  " 

"  Dey's  safe,  suh,  but  deol'  Missus  she  might' 
nigh  skeered  ter  death,  but,  lawsee!  Missy 
Gayle,  she  order  de  ol'  Missus  an'  de  oder  women 
eroun'  like  er  gin'ral,  an'  neber  a  squawk  from 
her." 

"  And  Mistress  Gayle,  where  is  she  now?  " 

"  She  is  here!  "  called  a  voice  from  the  stair- 
way. "  I  presume  we  are  all  prisoners.  Have 
you  shackles  ready?  " 

There  stood  the  little  Tory,  looking  down  at 
me,  contempt  plainly  writ  on  her  face. 

"  Prisoners  for  the  present,  I  presume,"  I 
replied,  bowing.  "  But  my  query  was  given 
voice  only  by  my  anxiety  for  your  safety." 

She  made  me  a  deep  curtsy.  "  Most  gracious 
of  you,  Captain,  —  or  should  I  say  Reverend  sir  ?  " 

"  Naught  care  I.  Just  so  your  mockery  puts 
pleasure  into  your  heart." 

I  turned  on  my  heel,  and,  with  chin  high, 
marched  into  the  adjoining  room.  The  windows 
had  been  shattered  by  stray  bullets  and  'twas 
most  dismal  and  cold  there,  the  wind  sweeping 
in  with  but  slight  hindrance.  Erasmus  had 
followed  at  my  heels. 

"  Marse  Ian,"  he  said,  catching  my  hand, 
"  don'  yer  eber  fergit  dat  dar's  a  God  in  heben. 


334  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Don'  yer  eber  fergit.  When  dem  guns  gin  ter 
racket  an'  de  bullets  was  er  singin'  dem  death- 
songs  ol'  Rassle  flopped  right  down  on  his  knees 
an'  pray  fer  you.  An'  de  louder  dem  cannons 
boomed  de  harder  ol'  Rassle  pray  fer  de  Lord  ter 
push  de  bullets  away  from  you.  Marse  Ian,  yer 
ort  ter  learn  ter  pray." 

I  looked  at  the  faithful  old  fellow  a  moment, 
and  the  tears  I  saw  in  his  eyes  as  he  pleaded 
softened  my  heart,  which  was  hard  and  bitter 
enough  at  that  moment. 

"  Well,  Rassle,  I  believe  you  are  right.  I 
haven't  been  to  my  knees  since  —  since  I  was  a 
boy.  I  always  prayed  then,  Rassle  —  with  my 
mother." 

"  Yes, 'deed  you  did,  Marse  Ian,  I  done  'member, 
an'  bless  de  Lord  you  'member." 

A  groan  of  agony  startled  me,  and,  wheeling 
quickly,  I  peered  into  a  dim  corner  of  the  room, 
where  I  saw  lying  on  the  floor  a  form  in  the  uni- 
form of  a  Hessian  officer.  The  form  moved,  and 
as  I  stepped  forward  the  wounded  man  raised  on 
one  elbow. 

"  Erasmus!     Come  here  at  once,  sir!  " 

'Twas  the  voice  of  Gayle  Langford,  and  in- 
voluntarily I  paused  and  looked  towards  the 
doorway. 


"On,  GOD!    LOOK  OUT,  MARSE  IAX  !  "  —  Page  335. 


"TOOK  KEER    O'  HER   BOY"  335 

"  Yes,  Missy,  I'se  comin'  dis  minute.     I'se  - 
Oh,  God!     Look  out,  Marse  Ian!  " 

To  my  astonishment  I  saw  the  darky  throw 
himself  towards  me  with  outstretched  arms. 
Almost  at  the  same  instant  came  the  report  of 
a  pistol,  and  with  a  horrible  scream  Erasmus 
spun  around,  clutching  at  his  breast,  and  then 
plunged  heavily  to  the  floor.  A  puff  of  smoke 
was  floating  from  the  corner  where  the  wounded 
Hessian  lay,  and  clutched  in  his  hand  I  saw  a 
pistol. 

"  Damn  you  for  an  assassin!  " 

My  pistol  came  from  its  holster  with  a  jerk; 
my  eye  glanced  along  the  barrel,  but  as  the 
sights  covered  his  brain-pan  the  finger  that  was 
curving  about  the  trigger  faltered  in  its  pressure, 
for  I  had  recognized  the  blood-streaked  features 
of  the  Prince. 

"  I  can't  kill  you  /  "  I  muttered,  lowering  my 
weapon.  But  with  a  spring  I  was  at  his  side  and 
had  kicked  the  pistol  from  his  hand.  A  hasty 
search  proved  that  he  had  no  other  weapon,  and 
as  he  fell  back  on  the  floor,  mumbling  a  plea  for 
mercy,  I  turned  to  old  Erasmus.  He  opened  his 
eyes  as  I  knelt  at  his  side. 

"  Marse  Ian,  —  yer  ain't  —  hurt  ?  "  he  gasped. 

"  No,  no.    You  —  you  caught  the  bullet." 


336  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

In  truth,  I  could  speak  but  little  better  than 
he,  for  the  sobs  were  choking  me.  A  glance  had 
told  my  experienced  eye  that  Erasmus  had 
given  his  life  for  mine.  There  was  a  scurry  of 
feet  on  the  stairway,  a  rustle  of  skirts,  and  Gayle 
Langford  stood  in  the  doorway,  her  face  pale. 

"  What  wretched  thing  has  happened  now?  " 
she  cried. 

"  Your  servant  has  been  wounded,"  I  replied. 
"  You  must  not  come  in  here." 

"  Who  has  done  this?    I  must  help  him!  " 

She  darted  forward,  but  I  rose  and  laid  my 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  keeping  my  body  between 
her  and  the  corner  where  the  murderer  lay. 

"  Run  and  prepare  a  bed.  I  will  carry  him  to  it. 
Quick!  It  is  cold  here." 

There  was  an  instant's  hesitation,  and  then 
she  turned  and  ran  out  of  the  room.  I  knelt 
again  by  the  darky. 

"  It  ain't  —  cold  —  Marse  Ian.  Ain't  de  — 
wind  from  —  de  Souf ?  What?  You'se  gwine  — 
ter  pack  oF  —  Rassle?  " 

I  had  gathered  him  up  in  my  arms  and  was 
starting  for  the  stairway  when  an  officer  with  a 
file  of  men  appeared  at  the  outer  door.  A  few 
words,  and  one  of  the  men  was  assisting  me  with 
my  burden,  while  the  others  made  the  Prince  a 


"TOOK  KEER    O'  HER   BOY"  337 

prisoner.  We  laid  our  burden  on  the  bed  the  girl 
had  ready,  and  she  set  to  work  to  stanch  the 
blood  that  gushed  from  a  wound  in  his  breast. 
I  knew  that  'twas  impossible  to  secure  a  surgeon's 
aid  that  early  after  the  battle,  and  I  also  knew 
that  no  human  being  could  defeat  death  in  this 
struggle.  I  forced  rum  between  his  lips,  and  he 
rallied  for  a  moment. 

"  Marse  Ian  —  don'  fergit  when  —  yer  prayed. 
It  —  was  —  how  come  it?  —  dis  ain't  Marse  — 
Ian.  It  Marse  Soldier!  How  —  yes  —  ol' Rassle 

—  done   remember   now.      It  —  why  —  dar's   de 
sweet  ol'  Missus  —  an'  she  smilin'  —  an'  smilin'  — 
yes  —  I  done  take  —  keer  o'  yer  boy !    Ol'  Rassle 

—  done  —  take  keer  —  o'  yer  boy!  " 

He  closed  his  eyes  again  and  for  a  moment  lay 
quite  still,  a  moment  in  which  there  was  no 
sound  save  the  sobs  of  a  girl  who  was  kneeling 
with  me  beside  this  humble  bit  of  clay  from  which 
the  life  God  had  breathed  into  it  was  slowly 
leaving. 

"  Yes,  dear  old  friend,"  I  said,  huskily,  holding 
his  hand  tightly  in  my  own.  "  You  have  taken 
care  of  her  boy.  You  have  died  for  her  boy!  " 

Gayle  Langford  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 
Then  I  saw  that  the  truth  was  dawning  on  her. 

"  You  ? "  she  asked,  and  I  nodded. 


338  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Aye,  he  was  in  my  father's  family  until  — 
hush!  "  His  eyes  had  opened  once  more,  but  in 
their  stare  there  was  no  light  of  the  present. 
His  hands  were  outstretched  feebly. 

"Come  hyar  —  li'l  Marse  Ian  —  ol'  Rassle 
gwine  —  ter  gib  yer  a  ride  —  dar!  on  my  back! 
Te,  he,  he!-  See  de  —  Missus  smilin'--Oh, 
Lord,  it  cain't  be  —  it  —  cain't  —  de  ol'  Marster  — 
dead  —  on  de  Eagle"  The  girl  buried  her  face 
in  the  pillow.  The  dying  man's  arms  swayed  to 
and  fro.  "Listen!  Marse  Ian  —  I  hear  de 
sweet  —  ol'  Missus  er  singin'  —  singin'  --  an*  de 
twilight  —  done  come.  Yes  —  right  dar's  whar  — 
she's  sleepin'  —  right  un'erneath  dem  —  sweet 
roses  what  ol'  Rassle  plant.  She's  —  what? 
Marse  Soldier  —  Ian  —  don'  go  ter  —  Langford's. 
Dey  hates  —  dat  —  uniform.  Yes  —  de  ol'  Mis- 
sus smilin'  at  Rassle  —  fer  he  —  he  —  done  take 
—  keer  —  her  boy !  Marse  Ian  - — 

The  wrinkled  hand  dropped  at  his  side,  there 
was  a  tremble  of  his  lips  and  then  he  lay  very  still. 
Like  a  schoolboy  I  sobbed  out  my  grief  and  wet 
the  calm,  dead  face  with  my  tears.  The  girl 
arose  and  went  to  the  window  and  stood  there, 
until  I  had  straightened  the  old  form  and  drawn 
a  sheet  over  it. 

"  Who  did  this  thing? "  she  asked,  turning  to  me. 


"TOOK  KEER   O'  HER  BOY"  339 

"  A  wounded  Hessian,"  I  replied,  after  a  pause 
in  which  conflicting  impulses  rioted  in  my  brain. 
"  The  bullet  was  aimed  for  my  heart.  Erasmus 
offered  his.  You  had  better  seek  your  own  room," 
I  added. 

"Have  you  seen  or  heard  aught  of  —  the 
Prince?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  saw  him  a  prisoner." 

For  a  few  breaths  there  was  silence ;  then  I  led 
her  to  the  door,  and,  with  a  slight  bow,  she  left 
me. 

Seeking  General  Washington,  I  obtained  per- 
mission to  bury  the  body  of  Erasmus,  and  at  mid- 
day a  squad  of  my  men  lowered  the  black  body 
into  the  grave,  but  the  soul,  fair  as  a  lily,  was 
beyond  the  skies.  As  the  rude  box  rested  in  the 
bottom  of  the  grave,  the  sergeant  looked  at  me. 
I  caught  the  look  and  dropped  to  my  knees 
in  the  snow  and  offered  an  awkward,  fervent 
prayer. 

Diligently  I  sought  to  learn  the  fate  of  the 
Prince,  but  in  vain.  There  was  much  confusion. 
Prisoners  were  being  marched  away,  and  every 
wagon  was  being  filled  with  the  wounded,  while 
burial  details  were  laying  the  dead  to  rest.  We 
were  to  make  a  quick  retreat  back  across  the 
Delaware  before  the  enemy  could  learn  of  the 


340  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

blow  and  overwhelm  us.  Dejectedly  I  stood 
near  headquarters  awaiting  the  order  to  move, 
when  a  sudden  commotion  in  a  squad  of  prisoners 
attracted  my  attention. 

"  '  How  long  will  ye  imagine  mischief  against 
a  man?  Ye  shall  be  slain,  all  of  you:  as  a  bowing 
wall  shall  ye  be,  and  as  a  tottering  fence.'  So 
saith  the  Psalmist." 

I  started  with  surprise,  and  stepped  closer. 
There  in  the  group  of  prisoners  stood  the  Reverend 
Jonathan  Collenbaugh,  still  wearing  my  ragged 
uniform. 

"  He's  got  us  puzzled,  sir,"  said  the  lieutenant 
in  command,  responding  to  my  question.  "  He 
wears  the  uniform  but  swears  he  is  not  a  soldier, 
and  it's  plain  that  he  isn't." 

"  '  Hear  my  voice,  O  God,  in  my  prayer; 
preserve  my  life  from  fear  of  the  enemy.'  ' 

The  preacher  stood  among  his  fellow  prisoners, 
hands  clasped  in  front  of  him,  his  eyes  uplifted 
towards  the  sky,  the  while  the  British  and  Hes- 
sians eyed  him  curiously. 

"  Probably  a  bit  touched  up  here,  sir,"  said  the 
lieutenant,  tapping  his  forehead. 

I  laughed.  "  No,  the  fellow  is  sane  enough.  I 
took  his  clothes."  Without  heeding  the  officer's 
gasp  of  astonishment,  I  turned  towards  the 


"TOOK  KEER   O'  HER  BOY"  341 

prisoner.  "  Collenbaugh!  "  I  called.  "  Content 
your  mind,  for  you  shall  soon  be  free." 

He  stared  at  me,  and  then  recognition  came  to 
him. 

"  Thou  evil  one,"  he  cried,  raising  one  arm 
appealingly.  "  Hear  the  prayer  of  the  Psalmist: 
'  Deliver  me  from  the  workers  of  iniquity  and 
save  me  from  bloody  men! ' 

"  Within  the  hour,"  I  replied.  "  Your  hand- 
some satins  are  lost  to  you,  but  let  your  heart  be 
glad,  for  the  wearing  of  them  enabled  a  man  to 
prevent  a  crime." 

"  Your  words  are  mystery,  but  there  is  no 
thought  of  raiment  in  my  mind.  I  like  not  the 
company  of  these  men  of  carnal  warfare." 

I  tarried  not  to  exchange  further  words,  but 
hurried  to  the  Chief,  where  a  hasty  explanation, 
that  lacked  much  of  explaining  all,  secured  an 
order  for  Collenbaugh's  release.  Already  the 
bugles  were  sounding,  and  as  I  ran  back  to  the 
group  of  prisoners  the  troops  were  on  the  move. 
Thrusting  the  order  into  the  lieutenant's  hands,  I 
hastened  to  my  own  troop,  now  serving  as  in- 
fantry, and  we  took  up  the  march  back  to  the 
Delaware.  Snow  had  again  begun  falling,  and 
mercifully  spread  its  mantle  over  the  dark  stains 
born  of  the  battle. 


342  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Our  march  was  past  Rahl's  old  headquarters. 
A  little  knot  of  townspeople  had  gathered  there 
to  watch  us  pass,  and  my  eyes  eagerly  searched 
for  a  mass  of  copper-tinted  hair.  She  was  not 
there.  The  wind  bit  at  me  cruelly,  and  the 
dreariness  of  it  all  was  sinking  deeper;  snow 
slapped  me  like  a  taunt.  But,  God's  love!  That 
face  at  an  upper  window !  The  throb  of  my  heart 
drove  back  the  increeping  wretchedness  with  a 
flood  of  something  warm  and  exultant,  the  touch 
of  the  snow  became  a  caress  to  my  cheek,  all 
because  Gayle  Langford  stood  looking  down  at 
me.  Heigho !  'Tis  a  wondrous  thing  when  youth's 
fires  are  in  the  veins.  I  flashed  my  blade  in 
salute.  There  was  no  response,  and  once  more 
the  march  was  changed  to  a  weary  plod. 

On,  on,  tramp,  tramp!  Then  youth  again 
conquered  pride,  and  I  turned  and  looked  back. 
Dimly  seen  through  the  snowy  veil  was  the 
mansion  and  —  yes,  it  was  true  —  Leaning 
far  out  from  that  upper  window  was  Gayle  Lang- 
ford.  And  her  face  was  towards  me! 

Then  a  flurry  of  snow  danced  between  us  and 
the  picture  was  blotted  out. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

SETTLING   AN   ACCOUNT 

BY  the  mercy  of  God  all  bitter  things  pass 
away,  and  so  winter's  snows  finally  gave 
way  to  spring's  sunshine.  The  birds  came 
back  to  us,  and  the  gladness  of  the  season  was 
trilled  daily  from  a  myriad  of  tiny  throats.  The 
ice  had  gone  from  the  Delaware,  and  now  when 
the  Continentals  voyaged  across  it  the  oarsmen 
lolled  lazily  at  their  work,  and  occasionally  paused 
to  idly  skip  rocks  over  the  waves.  The  green  had 
crept  up  into  the  grass,  and  from  the  much- 
neglected  fields  came  the  odor  of  freshly  ploughed 
ground.  In  town  and  country  the  fruit-trees  were 
carrying  a  mass  of  pink  and  white  bloom,  and  the 
breath  of  the  late  April  days  was  sweet  with  its 
fragrance. 

Mary  Wilmoth  found  the  awakening  of  the 
world  to  the  new  season  of  life  so  filled  with 
memories  of  the  happiness  of  the  old  home  that 
she  spent  much  time  walking  about  the  city, 

343 


344  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

venturing  as  far  into  the  outskirts  as  she  deemed 
prudent,  in  order  that  she  might  revel  in  the 
delights  Nature  was  spilling  over  the  countryside 
Each  bird,  each  blossom,  each  tree  whose  branches 
whispered  to  the  breezes,  was  as  a  dear  friend  to 
her,  and  with  these  as  her  daily  companions  she 
was  ever  blithe,  and  looked  through  the  war 
gloom  to  the  brightness  of  the  sunshine.  It  was 
while  on  one  of  these  rambles,  as  she  told  me 
afterwards,  that  her  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  fluttering  of  a  kerchief  from  a  passing  car- 
riage. Almost  at  the  same  moment  it  stopped 
and  Gayle  Langford,  leaning  forward,  smiled  into 
her  eyes. 

"  How  fortunate,  my  dear  Mary!  You  must  sit 
here  by  me,"  she  called,  gaily. 

Mary  ran  to  clasp  the  outstretched  hand,  and 
chattered  her  joy  at  the  meeting,  but  her  glance 
noted  the  gorgeousness  of  the  equipage,  the 
dainty  stylishness  of  the  other's  attire,  and  then 
she  dropped  her  eyes  to  her  own  plain,  cheap 
dress.  The  contrast  was  quite  apparent,  and  for 
an  instant  the  light  faded  from  her  eyes. 

"  I  thank  you,  but  I  —  I  think  'twere  better 
that  I  continue  my  walk,"  she  said. 

Gayle  caught  the  droop  of  the  eyes  and  readily 
understood. 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     345 

"  Indeed,  I  will  not  be  denied!  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  am  quite  petulant  when  my  friends  withhold 
from  me  a  favor,  so  get  right  up  here  by  my  side, 
else  you  condemn  me  to  an  hour  of  tears  because 
that  on  which  my  heart  is  set  is  refused  me." 

Laughing  merrily,  Mistress  Mary  sprang  lightly 
to  the  seat  and  snuggled  down  beside  the  maid 
whose  hauteur  had  sent  many  a  mincing  macaroni 
slinking  away  like  a  whipped  boy. 

"  Your  return  to  Philadelphia  has  been  recent?  " 
asked  she  as  they  drove  onward. 

"  Yes.  After  the  horror  of  the  attack  on  Tren- 
ton we  went  to  Boston  for  some  weeks.  We 
once  lived  there  —  when  I  was  a  little  girl."  A 
great  cluster  of  blossoms  which  she  held  in  her 
hand  were  raised  to  her  face  as  though  she  would 
inhale  their  perfume. 

"  Trenton!  Yes,  it  must  have  been  terrible  for 
you.  Of  course  it  was  glorious  for  —  our  cause, 
but  it  meant  so  much  to  you.  The  battle  came 
before  there  was  a  wedding,  I  understand." 

"  Yes,  because  of  Trenton  I  am  yet  a  maid." 

Mary  looked  up  into  her  companion's  face  and 
there  was  a  soft  glow  of  sympathy  in  her  dark 
eyes. 

"  'Tis  most  sad  to  have  such  a  shocking  affair 
thrust  between  you  and  the  man  you  love. 


346  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Richard  —  I  —  I  mean  Lieutenant  Boyd  —  wrote 
me  somewhat  of  it,  though  he  said  'twas  little  he 
knew.  He  wrote  that  he  thought  Captain  Lester 
had  knowledge  of  it,  but  that  he  never  would 
discuss  the  Trenton  affair.  Had  we  not  better 
drive  to  your  home?  You  are  looking  a  trifle  pale 
and  wearied." 

"  No,  no!  Tis  but  your  fancy.  Lieutenant 
Boyd  distinguished  himself  at  Trenton,  I 
heard." 

"  Oh,  he  was  splendid,  they  say!  "  she  cried, 
enthusiastically.  "  But  he  doesn't  write  me  much 
about  it,  though  he  says  that  during  all  of  it  he 
was  thinking  of  —  " 

She  paused  suddenly,  and  when  Gayle  looked 
into  her  face  she  saw  the  blood  surging  up  into 
her  cheeks. 

"  Thinking  of  what  did  you  say?  "  she  asked, 
smiling. 

Mary  suddenly  seized  her  hand  and  pressed  it 
between  both  of  her  own. 

"  Men  say  such  extravagant  things  to  maids, 
think  you  not  so,  dear  Gayle?  " 

"  But  maids  count  them  not  extravagant.  Is 
it  not  so?  " 

The  girl  at  her  side  laughed  in  a  sudden  burst 
of  exuberant  spirits. 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     347 

"  La,  I  am  afraid  we  are  most  amazing  fond  of 
the  extravagances,"  she  replied. 

"And  Lieutenant  Boyd  —  do  you  hear  often 
from  him?  " 

"  Only  one  letter  these  ten  days  —  and  the 
postboy  comes  from  Washington's  camp  twice  a 
week,"  she  replied,  looking  up  with  a  pretty  pout. 

Gayle  smiled,  and,  bending  her  head  suddenly, 
kissed  the  maid. 

"  Then  you  love  him  very  dearly,  do  you  not?  " 
she  said. 

Mary  raised  her  head  quickly,  a  startled  look 
in  her  eyes,  the  while  her  cheeks  grew  rosier. 

"  Why  —  I  —  do  not  know.  It  is  a  very 
serious  thing  to  be  —  in  love  —  isn't  it?"  She 
paused  and  looked  down  at  her  fingers,  which 
she  interlaced  a  bit  nervously.  Her  companion 
made  no  answer,  but  sat  very  still.  "  And  I  do 
not  feel  at  all  serious,"  she  continued,  looking  up 
again,  and  smiling.  "  I  am  just  happy  all  the 
time  —  like  my  canary,  that  sings  the  gladness 
each  new  day  puts  into  its  heart.  Is  that  love? 
If  it  is  it  must  be  a  most  wonderful  thing,  don't 
you  think?  " 

"Yes  —  love  is  a  most  wonderful  thing." 
The  blossoms  were  pressed  to  her  face  again. 
"  And  a  most  blessed  thing  when  it  comes  thus. 


348  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

But  not  always  does  love  put  music  into  the 
heart.  Sometimes  love  means  —  pain."  Her 
voice  was  very  low  and  the  words  ended  in  but 
little  more  than  a  whisper. 

"  But  how  can  it  mean  pain  if  it  is  given  us  by 
God?  You  see  I  am  a  bit  simple  in  my  beliefs, 
for  it  has  ever  been  my  thought  that  God  gave  us 
love."  She  was  looking  up  into  Gayle  Langford's 
face,  wistfulness  in  her  eyes. 

"  Bless  you,  my  sweet,  if  'tis  simplicity,  then 
is  simplicity  truth.  But  do  not  let  any  '  whys  ' 
burden  your  tongue  nor  hush  your  song.  God 
sends  us  both  the  rain  and  the  sunshine  and 
counts  them  equally  blessed." 

Mary  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  away, 
but  she  saw  not  the  houses,  nor  the  trees,  and  she 
heard  not  the  crunch  of  the  carriage  wheels. 

"  I  wonder  if  —  if  -  -  'tis  really  love,"  she  said 
at  last,  slowly.  Then  she  turned  again  to  Gayle. 
"  Will  you  think  me  a  most  bold  and  immodest 
maid  if  I  tell  you  that  I  once  thought  I  was  near 
to  —  loving  —  Captain  Lester?  There,  you  have 
dropped  those  beautiful  blossoms!  " 

Gayle  stooped  to  gather  up  the  scattered  bloom, 
and,  somehow,  the  blossoms  seemed  difficult  to 
secure,  for  she  fumbled  after  them  an  unexpected 
length  of  time,  her  face  averted.  Then  she 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     349 

leaned  back  and  inhaled  the  fragrance  of  the 
bloom. 

"  Captain  Lester!  Ah,  true,  he  is  a  most  gallant 
soldier." 

"  Yes,  he  is  splendid,  but  then  —  Richard  — 
is  —  well,  he  is  just  Richard!  "  And  then  they 
both  laughed. 

"  Now  that  we  have  met  once  more  you  must 
promise  to  come  often  to  see  me,"  said  Gayle. 

"  Oh,  I  will  be  delighted.  In  these  dreadful 
times  one  so  loves  friends.  And  you  seem  so 
strong  and  wise.  You  see,  I  always  confided  in 
my  brother,  but  —  the  war,  you  know." 

Mistress  Langford  laughed  again.  "  I  fear  I 
cannot  take  your  brother's  place.  I  am  un- 
acquainted with  the  accomplishments  of  brothers 
unless  it  be  —  "  She  stopped  in  confusion. 

"  Unless  it  be  what?  " 

"  The  art  of  fence.     Are  you  shocked?  " 

"  Indeed,  no.     Are  you  skilled  in  it?  " 

"  To  a  fair  degree.  My  father  never  quite 
forgave  me  for  not  being  his  son  instead  of  his 
daughter,  and  he  vowed  I  should  be  taught  to 
fence  '  like  a  gentleman.'  So  I  was  tutored  by  a 
master  of  the  art,  and,  in  truth,  I  liked  it." 

"  I  have  heard  that  many  maids  in  the  cities 
have  learned  it." 


350  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  The  exercise  is  amazingly  beneficial  —  and 
sometimes  a  bit  of  skill  with  a  rapier  is  valuable 
in  other  ways." 

"  But,  Gayle,  look!  Is  there  not  something 
familiar  about  yon  horsemen?  " 

Two  Continental  officers  had  turned  a  corner 
ahead  of  them  at  a  sharp  trot.  Mistress  Langford 
looked  and  the  bloom  fled  from  her  cheeks. 

"  Captain  Lester!  "  she  gasped. 

"  Richard!  "  cried  Mary. 

Aye,  it  was,  indeed,  we.  The  Congress  had 
crept  back  to  Philadelphia  after  Washington's 
brilliant  successes  at  Trenton  and  Princeton,  but 
so  weak-kneed  were  they  that  the  Chief  was 
constantly  pestered  with  pleas  —  not  actual  de- 
mands —  for  a  stronger  force  in  the  city,  until 
finally  he  ordered  a  troop  of  horse  to  the  capital, 
and  Boyd  and  I  officered  it.  And  now  that  we 
were  settled  in  our  new  quarters  Boyd  was  wild 
for  a  canter  through  the  streets  he  knew  so  well. 
We  spied  the  carriage  and  recognized  its  occu- 
pants at  the  same  instant. 

"Sword  of  Washington!"  exclaimed  Boyd. 
"  A  petticoat  truce!  " 

And  then  we  found  ourselves  springing  from 
our  mounts  beside  the  carriage  and  sweeping 
our  hats  low  in  profound  bows. 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     351 

"  The  fortunes  of  war  are  not  always  ill,"  I 
said. 

"  A  surprise,  truly,"  said  Mistress  Gayle,  not 
ungraciously.  "  We  did  not  dream  —  " 

"  Ah,  no,"  broke  in  Boyd.  "  'Twas  the  grave 
members  of  the  Congress  who  dreamed  —  of  my 
Lords  Howe  and  Cornwallis.  And  we  were 
ordered  here  to  quiet  their  slumbers." 

And  then  our  tongues  wagged  at  a  most  pro- 
digious rate,  but  naught  was  spoken  of  Trenton 
till  we  were  about  to  mount  again,  and  then 
Mistress  Gayle  leaned  towards  me  and  asked, 
hesitatingly,  if  I  had  lately  visited  the  grave  of 
Erasmus. 

"  'Tis  growing  green,"  I  replied.  "I  —  knelt 
there  —  less  than  a  fortnight  ago." 

Gayle  Langford's  eyes  were  lowered,  but  as  we 
swung  into  our  saddles  I  saw  a  tinge  of  color  steal 
into  her  cheeks.  Then  as  they  drove  away,  Mary 
Wilmoth  turned  and  smiled  back  at  Boyd. 

"  My  friends  will  always  be  welcome  at  our 
home,"  she  called. 

I  was  watching  Gayle  Langford.  She  half- 
turned,  as  though  on  impulse,  and  then,  seeming 
to  catch  herself,  she  faced  to  the  front  once  more, 
and  as  the  carriage  rolled  away  I  saw  her  head 
go  up  to  the  old  proud  poise. 


352  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

We  rode  mostly  in  silence  until  we  once  more  dis- 
mounted at  headquarters.  Then  Boyd  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  himself  over  in  a  critical  manner. 

"  I  must  get  a  new  uniform,"  he  said,  re- 
flectively. "  This  faded  and  patched  rig-out  will 
do  very  well  for  the  field,  but  here  -  Yes,  I'll 
get  a  new  one  at  once." 

I  laughed,  but  'tis  doubtful  if  he  heard  me,  for 
he  was  slapping  his  thigh  with  his  riding-whip 
and  humming  softly  to  himself. 

During  the  next  week  I  found  time  to  call  on 
the  Wilmoths  and  pay  my  respects,  but  I  did  not 
meet  Gayle  Langford.  When  I  took  my  departure 
I  told  myself  that  I  was  glad  I  had  not  encountered 
the  little  Tory,  but  as  I  trudged  back  towards  my 
quarters,  lost  in  a  maze  of  thought,  I  suddenly 
admitted  to  myself  that  'twas  an  unusual  route  I 
was  following  to  reach  my  destination  —  for  there 
before  me  was  the  Langford  home.  The  hour 
was  not  late ;  I  had  just  heard  the  watch  call  the 
hour  of  nine.  The  night  was  clear,  the  sky 
starlit,  the  air  balmy. 

A  few  lights  were  to  be  seen  about  the  Langford 
home,  and  in  front  of  the  main  doorway  a  lantern 
was  burning.  Would  I  ever  cease  being  a  fool, 
I  asked  myself  as  I  found  myself  standing  under 
one  of  the  trees  in  the  grounds. 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     353 

Aye,  a  harsh  word  it  was  and  ever  distasteful 
to  me,  but  it  was  being  whispered  into  my  ears 
that  moment  from  out  of  the  night,  just  as  it 
had  been  whispered  to  me  in  many  other  moments 
before.  Many  a  night  had  I  lain  dreaming  of  the 
baffling  little  witch,  then  awakened  to  find  the 
camp-fire  casting  strange  shadows,  from  out  of 
which  nameless,  formless  things  seemed  croaking 
at  me,  "  Thou  fool!  "  "  Thou  fool!  "  And  now 
they  were  whispering  it  again  from  the  leaves  that 
rustled  above  me,  from  the  rose-bushes  that 
marked  the  Langf ord  gardens ;  and  the  plaintive 
cry  of  a  restless  night-bird  came  to  me  as  a  jeer. 

Through  the  stillness  of  the  night  I  heard  the 
faint  plashing  of  a  fountain,  and  it  seemed  but 
a  mocking  echo  of  a  night  —  was  it  but  nine 
months  before?  —  a  night  that  had  become  a 
sacred  memory  to  me,  for  by  that  fountain  I  had 
held  in  my  arms  —  yes,  I  was  a  fool  to  come  here 
now. 

I  turned  my  back  to  the  house,  but  had  taken 
but  one  step  when  I  shrank  back  against  the  tree 
and  strained  my  eyes  into  the  gloom.  Surely  I 
was  not  mistaken.  No,  there  it  was  again,  a 
shadowy  form  that  darted  from  tree  to  tree  and 
crawled  slowly  across  the  wider  spaces,  but 
always  working  towards  the  house.  Cautiously  I 


354  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

began  the  same  tactics,  keeping  directly  in  the 
rear  of  the  other,  and  clutching  my  sword  scab- 
bard firmly  lest  a  clank  betray  me.  Closer  we 
drew  to  the  house,  until  the  faint  glow  of  the 
lantern  revealed  to  me  the  familiar  uniform  of  a 
Continental  officer.  Finally  he  reached  the  last 
tree  and  stood  in  its  shadow  a  moment,  while  I 
crouched  beside  another  not  far  away,  mystified. 
What  could  it  mean?  Was  this  home,  once  the 
Tory  headquarters  in  Philadelphia,  still  suspected, 
and  was  this  man  here  to  spy,  even  though  the 
leader  of  it  all  had  lain  in  his  grave  these  many 
months? 

The  figure  stepped  away  from  the  tree  a  pace 
and  I  saw  his  arm  swing.  Then,  "  spat!  "  went  a 
stone  against  the  tin  of  the  lantern,  swaying  it 
violently,  but  failing  to  extinguish  the  light, 
evidently  the  fellow's  object.  I  heard  him  mutter 
a  curse  at  his  failure,  and  then  he  walked  boldly 
forward  while  I  darted  to  the  tree  where  he  had 
stood.  Now  he  was  plainly  revealed  to  me  in  the 
lantern's  light,  and  I  cudgelled  my  brains  to 
determine  where  I  had  seen  that  figure  before.  It 
was  strangely  familiar,  but  his  back  was  towards 
me.  If  only  he  would  turn  his  face. 

Acting  on  a  sudden  thought,  I  clanked  my 
scabbard  against  the  tree.  Instantly  he  wheeled 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     355 

about,  and  a  gasp  of  surprise  escaped  me  as  I 
found  myself  staring  at  the  face  of  the  Prince. 

Like  a  flash  I  saw  the  truth.  He  had  escaped 
from  prison  and  had  in  some  way  secured  the 
uniform  for  a  disguise.  Naturally,  he  was  seeking 
refuge  in  the  Langford  home.  Only  an  instant 
he  gazed  back  into  the  shadows,  and  then  turned 
and  hurried  towards  the  house,  but  with  a  bound 
I  was  after  him. 

He  was  in  the  full  glow  of  the  lantern  when  he 
heard  me  coming,  and  wheeled,  the  blade  he  wore 
at  his  side  being  whisked  from  its  sheath  as  he 
did  so.  My  own  steel  flashed  as  I  sprang  to  face 
him,  and  for  a  breath  we  stood  with  set  jaws, 
eying  each  other,  and  'twas  plain  that  neither  of 
us  doubted  that  we  were  to  duel  to  the  death. 

"  On  guard!  "  I  cried.    "  I  do  not  murder!  " 

"  No,  —  you  die!  "  he  rasped. 

There  was  a  shower  of  sparks  as  our  steel  met. 
In  my  mind  was  a  stolen  uniform  with  despatches, 
and  another  vision  of  a  lonely  grave  at  Trenton 
where  Erasmus  slept.  My  attack  was  so  savage 
that  I  soon  forced  him  back  to  where  the  shadows 
lay,  but  I  saw  my  mistake,  and,  feigning  weakness 
and  failing  courage,  I  began  to  retreat  step  by 
step,  firing  him  with  the  belief  that  he  could  soon 
run  me  through,  and  thus  drawing  him  slowly 


356  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

back  to  the  light,  and  there  I  stopped  and  began 
measuring  my  skill  with  his. 

He  was  eager  and  his  lust  for  my  life  dulled  his 
cunning.  Fighting  carefully,  I  saw  his  guard 
falter,  and  there  was  a  glitter  on  my  blade  as  I 
slipped  it  straight  for  his  heart  —  but  turned  my 
wrist  at  the  last  instant  just  in  time  to  slit  his 
waistcoat  instead  of  his  heart.  'Twas  purposely 
done,  but  why  ?  The  query  I  could  scarcely  answer 
myself. 

Soon  I  realized  that  I  was  his  master  in  the  art 
of  fence,  and  the  low  laugh  that  escaped  me 
maddened  him  until  my  blade  once  more  pinked 
him,  this  time  on  the  arm,  though  I  could  as  well 
have  run  him  through.  The  fellow  had  earned 
death.  His  murderous  treachery  at  Trenton  had 
forfeited  his  life,  if  there  had  been  no  other  scores 
to  settle.  But  should  I  be  his  executioner?  In 
my  heart  the  cry  was  sounding,  "If  he  dies 
Gayle  Langford  may  be  won!  " 

A  sweat  oozed  out  on  my  brow,  not  because  of 
the  enemy  before  me,  but  because  of  the  struggle 
with  the  enemy  within  me.  With  that  personal 
desire  in  my  heart,  would  it  be  execution  or 
murder  if  I  slew  him?  And  Gayle  Langford  loved 
him  in  spite  of  all.  Of  that  I  was  certain.  Could 
I  give  his  life  to  her  —  to  the  girl  who  had  pelted 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     357 

me  with  pebbles  in  Boston's  streets,  and  whose 
memory  I  had  hated?  These  thoughts  raced 
like  lightning  flashes  through  my  mind  as  we 
duelled.  He  was  tiring,  I  could  see ;  the  play  of 
his  blade  was  slackening,  and  the  fear  of  death 
was  dilating  his  eyes.  I  laughed  again  in  mockery. 

"  I  trust  your  Highness  remembers  Trenton," 
I  taunted. 

There  was  no  reply,  but  his  arm  stiffened  and 
the  sneer  nerved  him  to  better  work,  until  he  had 
me  fighting  at  my  best  paces.  Again  hope  shone 
in  his  eyes.  Click!  Click!  z-z-z-zh  —  Click! 
The  sparks  played  merrily.  Then  of  a  sudden  I 
heard  a  rattle  at  the  door,  and  springing  aside  for 
an  instant  I  shot  a  glance  there,  and  saw  Gayle 
Langford  step  out,  then  clasp  her  hands  with  a 
cry  of  hoiTor  as  she  took  in  the  scene  and  recog- 
nized the  fighters.  Then  our  blades  met  again, 
and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  flying  down  the 
steps  towards  us. 

"  Stand  back!  "  I  cried,  waving  my  left  hand 
towards  her. 

"  Ach!  You  shall  see  the  rebel  die!  "  exclaimed 
the  Prince. 

Again  he  attacked  with  murderous  fury,  and 
again  I  pricked  his  arm  and  laughed.  Then  I 
caught  his  blade  in  a  weak  position,  there  was  a 


358  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

swift  downward  thrust  of  my  own  steel,  a  sudden 
twist,  and  I  had  sent  his  blade  whirling  from  his 
hand.  I  dropped  the  point  of  my  sword  to  the 
ground,  and,  turning,  bowed  to  the  girl,  who  stood 
mute,  horror  writ  on  her  face. 

"  I  give  his  life  to  you,"  I  said. 

Before  she  could  reply,  there  were  shouts  on 
the  streets  and  the  sound  of  men  running.  Swing- 
ing my  sword  overhead,  I  dashed  the  lantern  to 
pieces. 

"  Into  the  house  —  you,"  I  called  to  the  Prince. 
"  Our  little  play  has  been  seen." 

Hardly  had  he  obeyed  than  one  of  the  watch 
came  running  up  the  walk,  followed  by  a  motley 
crowd  of  idlers.  I  stepped  between  them  and  the 
girl. 

"  A  moment  too  late,"  I  said.  "  The  cut- 
throat has  escaped." 

"  I  saw  a  duel,"  said  the  watch. 
'  Yes,  a  robber  attacked  this  young  lady.  I 
heard  her  scream  and  ran  to  her  aid.  We  fought 
till  he  heard  you  coming,  then  he  dashed  the 
light  out  and  fled  —  in  that  direction."  I  pointed 
down  towards  the  trees  beyond  the  house,  and 
the  thick-heads  went  streaming  away  into  the 
shadows.  Then  for  the  first  time  Gayle  Langford 
spoke. 


SETTLING    AN    ACCOUNT     359 

"  You  are  generous,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  Good  night,"  I  replied,  replacing  my  sword 
and  bowing  to  her.  Then  I  turned  and  walked 
away. 

The  burning  tobacco  was  glowing  in  the  bowl 
of  my  pipe  when  Boyd  entered  our  quarters  an 
hour  or  two  later.  His  uniform  was  spotless,  and 
his  face  was  abeam  with  smiles.  Ignoring  the 
chair  he  sat  down  on  an  edge  of  the  table  and 
hummed  a  bit  of  gay  song.  The  signs  were 
unmistakable. 

"  I  am  waiting  to  hear  the  news.  Out  with 
it." 

He  crushed  his  hat  in  both  hands  and  a  faint 
flush  showed  in  his  cheeks. 

"  Ah,  Lester,  everything  is  all  right  now.  I 
told  her  —  I  mean  I  asked  —  that  is  —  " 

"  Never  mind,  comrade.  I  know.  And  she 
gave  herself  to  you?  " 

"  Doesn't  seem  as  though  it  could  be  true,  does 
it,  Lester?  But  she  did.  Yes,  she  did,  she  did." 

He  was  crushing  that  poor  hat  frightfully  in 
his  enthusiasm,  but  I  did  not  remind  him  of  it. 
Somehow,  no  words  came  to  me,  and  I  sat  with 
elbow  on  table,  my  chin  in  hand,  staring  at  the 
flickering  candles. 

"  Hang  it,  man,  haven't  you  a  word  of  con- 


360  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

gratulations  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Just  because  you 
know  nothing  of  love,  must  you  make  a  sphinx 
of  yourself?  " 

"  No,  no,  Boyd.  A  pardon  for  my  rudeness, 
though  'twas  not  intended.  I  am  glad  for  you  — 
I  congratulate  you  with  my  whole  heart."  I 
clasped  his  hand,  and  he  smiled  at  the  fervor  of 
my  words. 

"  I  believe  you  mean  every  word,"  he  said. 
"  I  spoke  too  sharply,  I  know,  but  you  can't 
realize  what  all  of  this  means  to  a  fellow,  Lester. 
Of  course  you  have  but  one  love  —  the  army. 
You  have  no  thought  for  the  love  of  woman." 

He  paused  as  though  expecting  me  to  speak, 
but  I  was  filling  my  pipe  again  and  made  no 
answer,  so  he  continued: 

"  After  this  war  is  over  the  Colonies  will  need 
an  army,  and  your  thoughts  are  all  for  your 
military  career.  Tis  proper  enough,  I  am  sure, 
but  I  care  naught  for  it.  I  want  the  love  of  a 
wife,  a  home  with  a  cheerful  hearth  —  and, 
mayhap,  children  playing  about  me.  You  see 
we  are  very  different." 

"  Yes  —  very  different,"  I  replied,  slowly, 
watching  the  smoke  wreaths,  and,  'fore  God,  from 
each  ring  Gayle  Langford  was  looking  down  at 
me. 


361 

"  But  once  I  thought  differently,  Lester,"  he 
said,  with  a  laugh.  "  You  know  I  once  thought 
you  in  love  with  that  little  Tory,  Gayle  Langford." 

I  blew  half  a  dozen  smoke  rings. 

"  Really?  Oh,  yes,  come  to  think  of  it,  I 
remember  that  you  did." 

All  the  happiness  that  was  bubbling  in  his 
heart  was  revealed  to  me  during  the  next  half- 
hour  and  then  he  said  he  was  going  to  bed.  In 
the  adjoining  room  I  soon  heard  him  singing 
softly : 

"  My  lover  is  a  soldier  lad, 

King  George's  crown  he's  scorning. 
He  rides  and  fights  with  Washington 
In  Liberty's  bright  morning." 

Long  I  sat  there,  pondering.  "  Of  course  you 
have  but  one  love  —  the  army,"  he  had  said.  I 
cared  naught  for  love  of  wife,  for  the  joy  of  a 
home!  And  I  had  duelled  with  a  man  and  given 
his  life  to  her !  From  the  west  came  the  low  rumble 
of  thunder,  and  as  I  walked  to  the  window  a  flash 
of  lightning  burned  along  the  horizon.  I  hoped 
it  would  rain ;  I  wanted  it  to  storm  —  the  light- 
ning to  set  the  sky  in  flames,  and  the  wind  to 
shriek  in  fury.  The  calm  was  maddening. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

INTO    THE   NEW   DAY 

MY  nervous  lust  for  action  was  gratified 
early  the  next  morning,  when  orders 
from  headquarters  sent  me  a-riding  with 
a  small  detachment  over  into  Jersey,  and  for 
nearly  a  week  we  were  busy  swooping  down  on 
Tory  communities  and  posting  broadsides  issued 
by  the  Congress.  But  it  was  tame  business, 
after  all,  this  threatening  and  warning  a  people 
not  courageous  enough  to  espouse  the  cause  of 
either  Patriot  or  Briton.  And  then  we  pounded 
back  to  Philadelphia,  leaving  behind  us  scowls 
and  sullen  yielding  to  the  orders  posted. 

The  storm  I  had  prayed  for  burst  upon  us  at 
twilight  while  we  still  were  an  hour's  ride  from 
the  city,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  take  it, 
and  so  I  rode  on,  with  the  troopers  splashing  along 
behind  me,  their  curses  in  my  ears.  In  truth,  we 
were  a  wretched-appearing  party  when  I  directed 

362 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        363 

the  sergeant  to  dismiss  them,  and  turned  towards 
the  headquarters,  where  I  found  light  and  life 
and  music,  for  the  commander  was  giving  a  ball 
to  his  officers  and  a  number  of  civilians. 

"  Get  into  dry  garments  and  join  us,  Lester," 
he  said,  when  I  had  finished  my  report.  "  There'll 
be  some  bonny  wenches  here  to-night  with 
roguish  eyes  and  lips  like  the  crimson  of  a  rose 
petal.  You  will  forget  your  present  misery  in  a 
flirtation  —  and  mayhap  a  buss  from  rosy  lips." 

"  Mayhap  a  buss  from  rosy  lips! "  Oddly 
enough  those  were  the  words  that  kept  running 
through  my  mind  later  as  I  peeled  my  soaked 
garments  off  and  got  myself  into  a  uniform  that 
was  dry.  Somehow  the  words  came  to  me  with 
the  odor  of  midsummer  clinging  to  them,  and  I 
saw  again  the  brilliance  of  the  Langford  mansion 
on  that  July  night  when  the  rebel  captain  auda- 
ciously made  his  bow  to  the  haughtiest  maid  in 
all  the  Colonies  and  claimed  her  for  the  minuet. 
That  night  I  had  clutched  and  vigorously  pulled 
the  string  that  unwound  a  skein  of  trouble  for 
me,  and  the  more  desperately  I  had  tugged  at  it 
the  more  complicated  had  become  my  vexations. 
But  now  the  end  of  the  skein  had  been  reached, 
and  in  a  duel  a  few  nights  ago  I  had  cleared  myself 
of  all  its  entanglements  and  flung  it  from  me. 


364  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  Mayhap  a  buss  from  rosy  lips."  I  smiled. 
Thus  the  sentence  had  marked  the  beginning  and 
ending  of  a  chapter  of  heartaches  and  woe. 

In  truth,  'twas  a  right  brilliant  assemblage  that 
danced  and  chatted  and  flirted  at  the  commander's 
ball.  Once  the  wail  of  the  hautboys  and  the  sob 
of  the  fiddles  seemed  to  whisper  to  me  of  Trenton, 
but  I  shut  that  out  from  memory  and  revelled  in 
the  present.  I  felt  a  light  touch  on  my  arm,  and 
turned  to  find  Mary  Wilmoth  smiling  up  at  me. 

"  La,  Captain,  I  scarce  could  believe  'twas  you. 
Rich  —  Lieutenant  Boyd  told  me  you  were  in 
the  saddle  —  out  there."  She  waved  her  hand 
towards  the  window,  where  the  rain  was  beating. 

"  A  merciful  Providence  saved  us  from  all  except 
one  hour  of  it,"  I  replied,  bending  over  her  fingers. 
"  You  are  radiant  to-night.  I  dare  not  attempt 
to  tell  you  how  radiant  lest  Dick  challenges  me 
for  a  meeting  at  dawn." 

She  tossed  her  head.  "  I  think  you  alarm 
yourself  needlessly  about  Lieutenant  Boyd.  Why 
he  —  he  has  danced  twice  with  other  maids  this 
night." 

"  'Tis  most  astounding! "  I  cried,  laughing. 
"  Then  I  will  challenge  him.  To  think  the  young 
scamp  should  have  such  ill  taste!  " 

"  He  said  the  officers  would  chaff  him  if  he 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        365 

danced  always  with  me.  They  wouldn't  be  so 
horrid,  would  they,  Captain?  But  I  wouldn't 
care.  He  is  splendid,  Richard  is,  and  —  maybe  — 
maybe  the  war  will  take  him  —  from  me  —  soon." 

"Tut,  tut,  Mistress  Wilmoth!  A  soldier's 
sweetheart  must  think  only  of  the  glory  he  fights 
to  win  for  her.  For  what  is  glory  —  what  is 
anything  in  the  world  to  a  man  if  he  cannot  kneel 
and  place  it  at  some  woman's  feet  and  see  her 
smile  on  him  for  his  tribute?  " 

She  laughed  merrily,  and  made  me  a  deep 
curtsy. 

"  'Tis  most  gracious,  your  speech,  Captain,  and 
I  will  think  no  more  sad  thoughts.  But  I  don't 
want  Richard  to  lay  honors  at  my  feet.  I  want  — 
just  him." 

"  Would  that  I  could  have  my  wishes  so  quickly 
answered,"  I  responded.  "  For  yonder  comes 
the  scamp  with  his  soul  in  his  eyes." 

She  turned  to  greet  him,  and  just  a  wee.  bit  of 
envy  of  their  great  happiness  crept  into  my  heart 
as  I  noted  the  glow  that  came  to  her  cheek  and 
the  smile  that  revealed  the  scarlet  of  her  lips 
and  the  whiteness  of  her  teeth.  By  Boyd's  side 
was  a  tall  young  officer  wearing  the  uniform  of  a 
captain  of  Continentals. 

"  Welcome  back  to  the  fold,  Lester!  "  exclaimed 


366  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

Boyd,  clasping  my  hand.  "  Let  me  introduce 
Captain  Wilton  Hawley." 

I  doubt  if  he  ever  knew  whether  we  acknowledged 
the  presentation  or  not,  for  the  last  word  was 
scarce  off  his  tongue  until  he  had  given  his  arm 
to  Mary  Wilmoth  and  was  leading  her  away,  his 
head  bent  close  to  her  ear.  For  a  breath  Captain 
Hawley  and  I  both  turned  to  watch  the  pretty 
picture,  and  then  we  smiled  —  but  spoke  no  word 
concerning  them. 

"  Let  us  step  into  the  smoking-room  and  have 
a  pipe,"  said  my  new  acquaintance.  "  I  believe 
we  have  met  before,  Captain  Lester." 

"  I  think  not,"  I  replied,  as  we  seated  ourselves 
and  lighted  pipes.  "  Though  in  truth,  now  that 
I  look  hard  at  you,  there  is  something  familiar 
about  you." 

He  smiled  and  blew  a  smoke  ring  upward. 
"  Perhaps  I  am  mistaken.  The  man  I  knew  was 
a  daredevil  chap  who  would  have  been  a  bloody 
corpse  at  the  Red  Fox  inn  —  there,  you  dropped 
some  ashes  on  your  coat !  —  had  not  a  girl  whis- 
pered a  cunning  falsehood  to  the  knave  who  was 
about  to  slay  him.  This  little  fib  made  him 
appear  more  valuable  alive  than  dead." 

"  How  the  devil  know  you  this?  "  I  cried, 
springing  to  my  feet. 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        367 

"How?  Well  —  perhaps  I  see  it  pictured  in 
the  smoke.  One  can  see  much  in  smoke.  Sit 
down.  I  would  tell  you  more  about  the  man  I 
took  you  to  be." 

I  sat  down,  and  stared  at  him,  vainly  trying 
to  recall  where  I  had  met  him,  and  wondering 
who  could  have  told  him  the  tale  of  the  Red  Fox 
inn. 

"  The  girl  —  ah!  what  a  girl  she  was,  Captain! 
God  has  made  but  few  of  her  pattern !  —  had  been 
spared  from  a  brutal  fate  when  it  was  found  that 
she  was  the  fiance  of  the  real  chief  of  the  knaves. 
I  believe  they  called  him  Prince  somebody.  And 
in  the  room  to  which  she  was  hurriedly  shown 
after  a  massacre  she  found  a  suit  of  boy's  clothing 
and  a  rapier,  which  the  landlord  had  forgotten. 
With  these  —  " 

"  No  more!  Tell  me  who  you  are!"  I  had 
dashed  the  pipe  to  the  floor  and  was  gripping  the 
back  of  my  chair  with  a  fury  of  impatience. 

He  arose  slowly  to  his  feet,  laid  his  pipe  aside 
carefully,  and  then  looked  me  full  in  the  face. 

"  Draw  on  your  imagination  a  little,"  he  said. 
"  Imagine  a  straw-colored  shock  of  hair  in  place 
of  this  powdered  wig;  imagine  all  ill-fitting, 
cheap  homespun  garments  instead  of  this  uni- 
form; and  then  —  this:  " 


368  GAYLE    LANGFORD 

He  thrust  his  hand  into  his  bosom  and  drew 
forth  a  hickorynut  shell  "cricket,"  and  I  saw 
his  eyes  suddenly  grow  dull  and  his  face  expres- 
sionless. Then  he  began  strumming  the  "  cricket" 
with  his  fingers  and  executing  a  silly  sort  of 
dance  as  he  chanted: 

"  Wild  hawk  caught  a  game-cock  in  a  pen  — 

Hi-lo-diddle-de-dee. 

But  game-cock  was  saved  by  the  clucking  of  a  hen  — 
Hi-lo-she  saved  him  did  she." 

I  was  on  my  feet,  staring  in  astonishment. 

"  By  all  the  gods!    Rhymer  I  "  I  shouted. 

Then  the  light  came  back  to  his  eyes,  his  face 
resumed  its  normal  expression,  and  he  slapped 
his  thigh  as  he  broke  into  a  ringing  laugh. 

"  At  your  service,  Captain,"  he  said,  bowing. 
"  Shall  you  challenge  me  for  inflicting  those 
doggerel  rhymes  on  you?  " 

"  Doggerel,  perhaps,  but  always  expressive,"  I 
replied. 

"  Well,  sometimes  I  did  manage  to  inject  a 
warning  into  the  horrid  jingles.  But  I  must 
leave  you  now  —  I  have  this  dance  with  a  Bright 
Eyes." 

He  hurried  away,  and  I  sat  alone,  smoking  and 
thinking  it  all  over.  There  was  no  music  in  my 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        369 

feet  that  night,  and  dance  after  dance  was  meas- 
ured off  while  I  sat  there.  Boyd  found  me  still 
wooing  my  pipe. 

"  Dick,"  I  said,  "  what  know  you  of  Captain 
Hawley?  " 

"  Precious  little.  One  of  the  shrewdest  men 
in  Washington's  secret  service,  they  say.  Ever 
meet  him  before?  " 

"  Yes  —  once."     More  smoke  rings. 

"  Well,  he  is  partly  responsible  for  my  having 
a  devilish  unpleasant  detail." 

I  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  It's  a  stone  wall,  a  blindfold,  and  a  volley  — 
for  another  poor  devil.  I'm  to  command, '  Fire ! '  " 

"  An  execution?     Who?     When?  " 

"  Thirty-six  hours  from  now  —  at  noon  Wed- 
nesday. You  know  that  precious  nobleman  of 
Gayle  Langford's  escaped  —  or  was  that  after 
you  went  over  into  Jersey  ?  You  heard  of  it  ?  Well, 
this  secret-service  captain  ferreted  out  the  man 
who  permitted  him  to  escape  and  then  furnished 
him  with  clothing  and  equipment.  What  did 
you  say?  " 

"  Nothing  —  nothing!    Go  on !  " 

"  Well,  Hawley  found  out  the  first  part  of  it, 
and  then  one  of  the  watch  identified  him  as  a 
man  he  had  seen  with  Gayle  Langford  that  same 


370  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

night.  The  fellow  had  fought  with  some 
knave,  and  the  watch  saw  it  and  ran  right  up  to 
him.  He  says  the  lantern  was  smashed,  but  he 
positively  identifies  him.  Tis  a  serious  thing  at 
this  critical  point  of  the  war,  and  the  court 
martial  says  he  is  to  die.  A  courier  returned 
from  the  Chief  yesterday.  Washington  is  visiting 
the  cantonments  and  is  now  at  Princeton.  He 
approves  the  sentence.  '  An  example,'  he  says, 
but  I  like  not  the  detail.  Ugh!  To  pour  lead 
into  a  blindfolded —  God's  name!  what  ails  you?  " 

The  last  words  I  heard  as  I  dropped  my  pipe  on 
the  table  and  dashed  from  the  room.  Officers  and 
ladies  paused  in  the  dance  to  stare  at  me  as  I 
ran  across  the  ballroom  floor,  surely  a  strange 
spectacle.  Down  the  stairs  I  plunged,  three  steps 
at  a  bound,  and  then  out  of  the  building.  An 
orderly's  horse  stood  tethered  close  by,  and, 
jerking  the  reins  loose  from  the  post,  I  sprang 
into  the  saddle  and  galloped  away  towards  the 
Langford  home,  but  my  heart  sank  as  I  came  in 
sight  of  the  place,  for  not  a  light  was  to  be  seen. 
Throwing  myself  from  the  saddle,  I  ran  up  the 
walk  to  the  house  and  thundered  at  the  heavy 
doors.  Again  and  again  the  ponderous  knocker 
sounded  its  summons,  but  no  response  came. 

As  I  look  back  at  it  now,  I  confess  that  I  cursed 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        371 

wildly  as  I  hammered  like  a  madman  at  that  door, 
cursed  and  thundered  in  rage  and  despair.  Then 
my  arms  fell  at  my  side  and  my  head  sank  down 
on  my  chest  and  I  stood  there  baffled.  The  rain 
beat  down  on  me,  but  I  paid  it  no  heed.  Gayle 
Langford  was  gone.  No  need  to  ask  where  —  or 
why.  Doubtless  at  this  very  hour  she  and  the 
Prince  were  making  their  way  along  some  lonely 
road  in  an  effort  to  reach  the  coast.  And  a  man 
was  to  die  for  that  which  she  could  deny.  Perhaps 
he  had  been  guilty  to  some  extent  —  but,  God's 
name!  was  I  innocent,  and  was  he  to  shoulder 
his  blame  and  mine?  Doubtless  he  was  some 
country  yokel  whom  the  Prince  had  dazzled  by 
lying  promises,  but  I  —  There  was  defence  for 
him;  for  me,  none. 

I  rode  slowly  back  to  headquarters  unmindful 
of  the  rain  and  storm,  my  thoughts  whirling.  Once 
more  in  the  commandant's  office,  I  sent  an  orderly 
for  him.  He  came,  frowning  and  in  ill  humor  at 
being  disturbed  in  the  dance. 

"  Well,  what  the  devil  causes  you  to  send  for 
me,  Captain?  "  he  asked,  sharply. 

"  A  question  of  life  or  death,"  I  replied.  "  I 
learn  a  man  has  been  condemned  — 

"  Rightly.  He's  to  be  an  example.  Washing- 
ton approves." 


372  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"Yes —  but  if  some  one  else  could  be  found 
who  would  confess  to  guilt?  " 

"  Then  there  would  be  two  face  the  volley. 
This  man  is  guilty.  No  such  trick  as  that  will  be 
sufficient  to  gain  time  for  him." 

There  was  a  rustle  of  skirts,  and  a  piquant, 
pretty  face  looked  in  at  the  doorway. 

"  Colonel,  are  you  going  to  hide  yourself  in  this 
dismal  room  when  the  music  is  sounding  for  our 
dance?  " 

"  No,  no.  I  am  coming  now.  Anything  else, 
Captain?  "  He  turned  towards  the  door.  In 
my  brain  I  heard  Boyd's  words,  "  Washington 
rests  at  Princeton." 

"  Yes,"  I  cried,  "  give  me  two  days'  leave  and 
a  pass  to  Washington." 

"  What  folly  is  this?  "  he  asked,  halting. 

"  No  folly!  Grant  my  request  and  I  will  free 
one  man  or  give  you  two  for  the  bindfolds." 

"  Please  hurry,  Colonel,"  came  the  woman's 
voice.  "  But  if  you  have  no  care  —  very  well." 

There  was  another  rustle,  and  'twas  evident 
she  was  leaving. 

"Coming  this  moment!"  he  called,  starting 
towards  the  door.  "  You  shall  have  your  wish  in 
the  morning,  Captain,  I  am  engaged  now." 

"  No,  no,  no!  "  I  shrieked,  springing  after  him 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        373 

and  clutching  his  arm.  ;  'Twill  be  too  late! 
What  is  the  dance  to  a  life?  " 

He  shook  my  hand  roughly  from  his  arm. 
"  Captain,  do  not  forget  yourself!  I  said,  in  the 
morning.  Coming,  my  dear!  " 

He  was  gone.  The  lure  of  a  woman's  eyes,  the 
scarlet  of  a  woman's  lips,  the  purr  of  a  woman's 
voice,  had  seduced  him  from  duty  and  sent  one 
man  to  his  death  —  and,  mayhap,  another  to  a 
madhouse.  God!  Could  I  hear  the  drums  roll 
the  death-march  and  keep  my  reason?  Could  I 
hear  that  awful  volley  echo,  and  live  to  remember 
it  through  all  of  my  life?  There  was  a  gleam  of 
lightning  at  the  window  and  a  gust  of  wind  slapped 
the  pane  with  a  dash  of  rain. 

How  I  reached  a  chair  I  could  never  remember, 
but  I  found  myself  in  a  chair,  my  arms  sprawled 
out  on  the  commander's  desk,  my  head  on  one 
arm.  Before  me  lay  a  pile  of  reports,  bearing  his 
signature.  Then  like  a  flash  I  saw  hope!  Seizing 
paper  and  pen  I  began  to  carefully  imitate  that 
signature.  Once,  twice,  thrice  —  over  and  over 
again  I  wrote  it,  slowly  improving,  until  at  last 
I  was  satisfied.  To  write  out  the  credentials  I 
wished  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment,  but  I 
hesitated  at  the  forgery.  But  only  for  a  breath, 
and  then  with  bold  flourish  I  placed  his  name  to 


374  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

it.  'Twas  done,  and  now  of  a  surety  had  all  of  my 
honorable  service  come  to  naught.  But  down 
yonder  in  a  prison  was  a  man  who  counted  the 
hours  that  lay  between  him  and  a  volley!  A 
long  cape  hung  on  the  wall,  and  this  I  snatched 
as  I  came  to  my  feet,  thrusting  the  forged  pass 
into  my  pocket,  and  then  with  the  cape  wrapped 
about  me  I  soon  was  riding  away  into  the  night 
and  storm. 

Soul  of  me,  but  'twas  a  beastly  night,  and  my 
cape  but  illy  protected  me  from  the  storm.  At 
the  bridge  I  was  challenged,  but  a  hasty  glance 
at  my  paper  caused  the  picket  to  shout,  "  Ride 
on  —  and  the  Lord  pity  you."  Then  I  was  away, 
riding  furiously  where  the  road  permitted,  and 
swearing  savagely  where  the  rain  had  made 
almost  bottomless  pits  of  the  road. 

The  crowing  of  roosters  came  to  my  ears  from 
a  farmhouse  as  I  floundered  by,  and  I  knew  'twas 
midnight  or  a  little  past.  I  could  not  spare  horse- 
flesh, and  the  poor  beast  was  lashed  and  goaded 
fearfully,  but  at  Trenton  I  would  change  mounts- 
did  my  present  one  live  to  carry  me  there.  Mile 
after  mile  was  put  behind  us,  and  I  found  myself 
wondering  how  Gayle  Langford  fared  that  evil 
night.  Once,  on  such  a  night,  she  had  huddled 
down  in  a  boat,  with  me.  To-night  —  ?  Was  she 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        375 

in  the  saddle  braving  the  storm,  or  was  she  in  a 
coach,  snuggled  down  beside  the  Prince,  unmind- 
ful of  the  night  and  its  woes;  happy  in  the  fact 
that  they  were  together,  going  away  from 
tragedy  to  love  and  joy?  I  found  my  teeth 
hard  set,  my  riding-whip  lashing  the  horse 
cruelly. 

A  faint  gray  was  showing  where  the  sky  in 
the  east  came  down  to  the  earth;  the  lightning 
no  longer  gleamed;  and  the  rain  was  slackening, 
but  the  road  was  little  less  than  a  long  ribbon  of 
soft,  oozy  mud,  that  stretched  away  between  rail 
fences  seemingly  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The 
gray  crept  higher  into  the  dripping  sky,  and  this 
time  the  crowing  of  the  roosters  proclaimed  the 
coming  of  dawn.  Presently  I  eould  count  the 
trees  that  showed  like  huge  dark  streaks  on  a 
curtain  of  drab,  and  in  the  lightening  gloom  I 
saw  that  my  horse's  head  was  drooping  low,  its 
nostrils  distended,  and  occasionally  there  was  a 
stumble  not  due  to  the  road,  but  to  the  exhaustion 
that  was  claiming  the  beast. 

But  still  the  animal  struggled  onward,  and  I 
sat  coaxing  and  urging,  and  straining  my  eyes 
for  the  first  glimpse  of  Trenton.  At  last  it  came. 
Before  me  was  a  small  cluster  of  houses;  then 
more  and  more,  until  I  found  myself  riding  a 


376  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

staggering  horse  through  Trenton's  streets  in  the 
semi-dawn. 

Uncertain  which  way  to  turn  in  seeking  a  fresh 
mount,  I  rode  on  until  I  found  myself  close  to  a 
building  I  well  remembered,  for  'twas  the  one 
where  Rahl  had  had  his  quarters.  To  my  surprise, 
I  saw  sentinels  in  Continental  uniform  slowly 
pacing  beats  in  front  and  at  the  sides  of  the  house. 
I  had  not  known  there  was  a  soldier  in  Trenton. 
As  I  reined  in  beside  one  of  the  sentinels  he  noted 
my  rank  and  came  to  a  salute. 

"  Where  can  I  find  a  fresh  mount?  "  I  asked. 
"  I  must  get  to  Princeton  ere  General  Washington 
leaves." 

"  You  might  as  well  dismount,  then,  for  the 
Chief  has  already  left  Princeton,  sir." 

' '  Left  Princeton  ?     Then  —  ' ' 

I  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  A  sudden  dizzi- 
ness rushed  over  me  and  only  a  quick  clutch  saved 
me  from  pitching  from  the  saddle. 

"  Aye,  left  Princeton  —  and  he  is  now  sleeping 
in  this  house!  " 

I  sat  staring  at  him,  unable  for  the  moment 
to  grasp  the  fullness  of  his  words.  Then  I  fairly 
tumbled  to  the  ground. 

"  God  be  praised!  "  I  mumbled,  for  now  that 
I  was  on  my  feet  I  found  that  I  was  well-nigh 


INTO    THE    NEW   DAY        377 

ready  to  sink  from  exhaustion.  I  dropped  the 
bridle-reins  and  stumbled  weakly  towards  the 
door,  but  the  sentinel  barred  my  way. 

"  I  must  speak  to  Washington  at  once!  "  I 
exclaimed. 

"  Impossible,  sir,  he  is  sleeping." 

"  Then  he  must  be  called.    Tis  life  or  death!  " 

"  Not  at  this  hour." 

"  Damn  this  heartlessness  that  will  let  a  man 
die  rather  than  yield  a  few  moments  of  selfishness. 
First  it  is  a  dance,  and  next  it  is  the  ease  of  a 
pillow  —  and  a  man  counting  his  hours!  " 

I  was  blazing  with  fury,  and  my  words  must 
have  been  shouted,  for  I  heard  a  window  above  me 
go  up,  and,  glancing  up,  I  saw  the  face  of  General 
Washington  peering  out  at  me. 

"  What  is  the  fuss?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

"  I  must  have  speech  with  you,  sir!  "  I  cried. 
"  A  man's  life  depends  on  it." 

"  Then  step  into  the  office  below  and  I  will  be 
down  in  a  moment." 

The  sentinel  saluted  and  I  entered  the  house, 
turning  from  the  hallway  into  a  room  I  well 
remembered,  for  there  had  Erasmus  remembered 
his  promise  to  my  mother  to  "  take  keer  o'  her 
boy."  I  fell  into  a  chair  and  gazed  moodily  about 
the  room  in  the  faint  light  that  stole  in  at  the 


378  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

windows.  Presently  there  was  a  step  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  next  moment  General  Washington  entered 
the  room.  I  came  to  my  feet. 

"  Now  your  story  —  ah,  Captain  Lester,  is  it 
not?  " 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  me  in  a  kindly  way, 
but  I  did  not  take  it. 

"No,  no,  sir.  Not  your  hand  —  until  you 
have  heard  me.  Then  you  will  not  offer  it." 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  then  seated 
himself. 

"  Very  well,  then  let  me  hear  you,"  he  replied. 

"  Tis  a  story,  sir,  of  a  man  who  became  a  fool 
because  he  loved  a  woman." 

He  smiled.    "  A  common  enough  tale,  Captain." 

Then  there  was  a  moment  of  silence  until  I 
found  my  tongue  and  launched  upon  a  recital 
that  caused  him  to  clasp  and  unclasp  his  hands 
several  times  and  to  stroke  his  chin  medita- 
tively. I  told  him  of  it  all,  how  I  had  lost  my 
despatches  while  duelling  for  her;  how  I  stole 
her  away  from  the  rabble  that  night  after  the 
Declaration ;  of  her  fight  for  me  in  the  dark  hall- 
way of  the  Red  Fox  inn,  and  her  message  in 
blood  that  saved  me.  I  told  of  the  affair  in  Tren- 
ton Christmas  night,  and  of  the  night  I  had  fol- 
lowed sentiment  and  found  myself  in  the  Lang- 


INTO    THE   NEW   DAY        379 

ford  grounds,  where  I  had  met  the  Prince.  I 
spared  myself  not  at  all,  but  admitted  I  could 
have  slain  him  and  would  not. 

"  My  personal  desire  would  have  made  it 
murder,"  I  said  in  conclusion. 

"But  he  was  disarmed.  You  could  have  re- 
turned him  to  prison,"  he  said. 

"  That  is  why  I  am  here,  sir.  I  gave  him  to 
her." 

He  arose  and  paced  the  floor  in  silence.  Finally 
he  paused  before  me. 

"  This  is  your  second  offence,  Captain  Lester. 
Are  you  prepared  to  meet  the  consequences  of 
what  you  have  just  told  me?  " 

"  I  am,  sir,  and  ask  only  that  the  life  of  that 
condemned  soldier  be  spared.  The  poor  yokel  is 
less  guilty  than  I." 

"I  must  take  a  brief  while  to  consider  this, 
for  —  " 

An  orderly  scratched  on  the  door.  "  A  lady 
to  see  you,  sir." 

"  I  cannot  see  her  now!  "  exclaimed  the  Chief 
impatiently.  "  I  suppose  she  wants  her  husband 
to  come  home  and  plough!  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  don't  think  so.  Your 
pardon  again,  sir,  but  it  will  take  a  squad  to  keep 
her  out.  She  has  already  lashed  one  of  my  mates 


380  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

with  her  riding-whip  because  he  tried  to  stop 
her." 

A  grim  smile  played  about  the  lips  of  the 
commander. 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  must  see  her  in  order  to 
save  my  soldiers.  Show  her  in  —  but  take  the 
riding- whip  away  from  her." 

He  smiled  again,  and  then  glanced  at  me. 
"  Captain,  you  may  withdraw  until  I  have  seen 
this  female  fury.  In  the  adjoining  room  you  will 
find  food  on  the  table.  You  must  be  famished. 
Step  in  and  help  yourself  until  this  interview  is 
ended." 

I  bowed,  thrust  aside  the  curtain  dividing  the 
two  rooms,  and  seated  myself  at  the  table.  The 
food  was  not  warm,  but  bread  and  butter  and  cold 
fowl,  with  a  bit  of  wine,  is  a  royal  breakfast  to 
one  worn  and  weary  as  I  was.  From  beyond 
the  curtain  came  the  sound  of  voices,  but  I  heeded 
them  not.  'Twas  food  I  wanted,  and  already  it 
and  the  wine  were  putting  new  life  into  me. 
Then  suddenly  the  bread  fell  from  my  hand  and 
I  sat  back  from  the  table,  listening.  The  voice 
of  the  woman  had  come  to  me  like  an  electric 
shock. 

"He  did  it  all  for  me!" 

'Twas  not  the  wine  nor  the  food  that  sent  the 


INTO    THE   NEW  DAY        381 

blood  a-bounding  through  my  veins.  'Twas  the 
voice  of  Gayle  Langford! 

In  a  trice  I  was  at  the  curtain,  and  peeping 
cautiously  into  the  other  room.  God's  name!  I 
wonder  to  this  day  how  I  kept  from  betraying 
myself,  for  there  before  me  stood  Gayle  Langford 
facing  General  Washington.  She  wore  a  rain- 
drenched  riding-habit,  which  clung  to  her  slender 
figure,  and  her  dull-copper  hair  had  tumbled  and 
been  blown  into  a  disorder  that  was  most  bewitch- 
ing. Her  cheeks  were  aglow,  and  her  eyes  were 
speaking  more  than  her  tongue. 

"  You  shall  not  take  his  life!  You  shall  not! 
He  has  given  so  much  to  his  country  —  to  these 
Colonies  he  loves!  You  do  not  know  how  he 
became  a  man  on  the  Eagle's  deck,  nor  how  he 
hated  a  girl  who  shouted  '  Long  live  King 
George,'  but  I  know  —  I  know  —  and  yet  he 
spared  this  —  prisoner,  and  gave  him  life  and 
liberty  for  the  sake  of  that  same  girl!  " 

Her  hands  were  clasped,  she  was  leaning  for- 
ward, with  every  nerve  plainly  at  highest  tension 
as  she  spoke  rapidly,  forcefully,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  face  of  the  man  before  her. 

"  And  why  have  you  come  here?  "  Washing- 
ton's tones  were  calm  and  methodical. 

"Why?"    she    cried.       "Why?      Because  — 


382  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

because  I  love  him  —  aye,  love  him  —  because, 
if  he  dies,  the  same  volley  shall  take  my  own 
life!  You  are  the  great  Washington  of  whom  I 
have  heard  so  much,  and  you  know  something  of 
duty.  I  have  tried  to  follow  it,  —  to  give  myself 
to  this  other  because  my  father  and  my  mother 
wished  it,  —  but  I  have  sent  him  from  me  because 
I  love  this  man  who  is  condemned  to  die  with 
your  approval!  " 

Marry!  'Twas  strange  that  they  did  not  hear 
the  shouting  of  my  heart,  the  gladness  that  was 
crying  in  my  soul.  I  turned  my  gaze  to  the 
Chief.  Mystification  was  writ  on  his  face,  and 
his  hand  went  to  his  chin. 

"  Tis  most  strange,"  he  said.  "  Why  have 
you  delayed  this  call?  " 

"  Because  I  learned  of  all  this  but  a  few  hours 
ago.  We  closed  our  house  and  went  to  Princeton 
on  the  day  following  the  escape.  I  was  there 
yesterday  when  you  left  for  Trenton.  Last  night 
I  learned  from  the  village  folk  that  a  man  was  to 
be  shot  for  assisting  in  that  escape.  I  questioned, 
they  knew  not  the  name,  but  said  'twas  he  who 
was  found  at  the  Langford  home  by  the  watch." 

"  And  you  love  the  yokel?  " 

"Yokel!  Captain  Ian  Lester  a  yokel?  The 
great  Washington  can  be  insulting,  I  learn." 


383 

'Fore  God,  she  was  more  glorious  in  her  in- 
dignation than  in  her  pleading.  Her  chin  had 
gone  up  in  that  old  way,  and  if  a  woman's  eyes 
could  kill,  the  Continental  army  would  that 
instant  have  lost  its  commander.  I  saw  a  sur- 
prised look  flash  across  the  Chief's  face.  Then  he 
walked  to  the  window,  and  the  side  view  I  had 
of  his  face  showed  me  a  quiet  smile  on  his  lips. 
Could  he  have  seen  my  face  —  but  he  could  not. 
'Twas  plain  he  was  enjoying  her  error. 

"  And  so  you  ordered  your  coach  and  came  to 
worry  me."  His  back  was  towards  her,  and  the 
smile  still  lingered. 

"  My  coach  !  Think  you  I  could  have  consent 
to  come?  I  crept  through  a  window  at  the  dead 
of  night,  stole  a  horse  from  the  stable,  and  came 
here  to  see  the  man  they  told  me  was  stern  but 
just.  I  came  to  beg  for  a  life." 

Then  he  turned  and  looked  at  her,  and  I, 
kneeling  there  by  that  curtain,  held  out  my  arms 
unseen  to  her. 

"  And  if  I  do  not  grant  it?  " 

She  stood  mute  for  a  moment,  one  hand  slowly 
going  towards  him.  Then  she  sank  into  a  chair 
and  a  sob  was  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke,  very 
low: 

"  Then  I  die  at  the  same  moment  with  him!  " 


384  GAYLE  LANGFORD 

Stepping  forward,  he  laid  one  hand  kindly  on 
her  head. 

"  Keep  the  tears  from  your  eyes,  child  —  Lester 
shall  live." 

In  truth,  I  never  could  clearly  recall  the  scene 
that  followed,  for  the  joy  I  saw  flaming  in  her 
face  put  chaos  into  my  brain,  but  I  remember 
the  Chief's  closing  words: 

"  Come  to  me  in  an  hour  and  you  shall  have 
the  paper.  And  I  will  give  you  an  escort  to 
Philadelphia  that  you  may  bear  the  message 
yourself." 

She  was  gone.  I  flung  aside  the  curtain  and 
rushed  into  the  room. 

"  You  heard? "  asked  Washington,  smil- 
ing. 

"  Yes,  yes!    Blessed  God,  I  heard!  " 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  no  smile  was 
on  his  lips. 

"  Was  it  she  for  whom  you  forgot  duty? "  he 
asked. 

"  It  was." 

He  sat  down  at  a  desk  and  wrote  rapidly  for  a 
few  moments.  Then  he  arose  and  handed  me  a 
paper. 

"  And  she  has  caused  me  to  forget  it,  also," 
he  said.  "  You  are  to  be  her  escort  to  Phila- 


INTO    THE    NEW   DAY         385 

delphia.  That  paper  is  the  only  wedding-present 
I  can  give  to  you  now." 

I  glanced  at  it  and  read  the  order  counter- 
manding the  death-sentence  of  the  soldier  in 
prison. 

The  rain  had  ceased  when  I  walked  out  of  the 
house,  and  a  rosy  glow  was  in  the  east,  marking 
the  spot  where  the  sun  would  soon  rise.  Birdland 
had  awakened,  and  from  the  trees  came  the  piping 
of  the  morning  songs.  My  horse  still  stood  where 
I  had  left  him,  and  I  turned  away  to  walk,  walk, 
walk,  and  join  with  the  birds  and  the  thousand 
things  of  nature  in  praise  to  God. 

I  found  my  steps  leading  me  to  the  Delaware, 
towards  the  spot  where  Erasmus  slept.  Just 
beyond  that  clump  of  trees  it  lay,  and  I  wondered 
if  the  faithful  old  black  could  look  back  across  the 
dark  river  that  morning  and  see  the  joy  in  his 
Marse  lan's  heart. 

The  whinny  of  a  horse  came  to  me,  and  I  then 
saw  the  grave,  and  at  the  green  mound  a  girl 
was  kneeling. 

My  heart  pounded  and  things  danced  before 
my  eyes  a  little  unsteadily.  .  .  .  Then  I  came 
to  myself  and-  found  that  I  was  holding  Gayle 
Langford  in  my  arms.  I  know  not  what  words 
had  been  said  before  that.  Neither  do  I  care. 


386  GAYLE   LANGFORD 

"  We  must  plant  flowers  here,"  I  said,  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  softly,  "  for  he  '  took 
keer  o'  her  boy! '  Shall  it  be  roses  —  red  roses?  " 

There  was  a  moment  when  my  lips  won  hers. 
The  sun  peeped  over  the  horizon  at  us;  the 
scent  of  blossoms  came  on  the  morning  air,  and 
the  chorus  from  the  songsters  in  the  trees  swelled 
stronger,  sweeter.  Near  by  Gayle's  horse  was 
pawing  impatiently.  I  slipped  the  bridle-rein 
over  my  arm,  and  then,  hand  in  hand,  we  walked 
away  into  the  glory  of  the  new  day. 


THE    END. 


A  Daughter 
of  the  South 

By     GEORGE     CART    EGGLESTON 

Illustrated  by  E.  Pollak     Decorated  Cover,  $1.50 

THE  action  of  the  story  lies  in  the  region  of  the 
lower  Mississippi  river,  from  Cairo  to  New 
Orleans,  and  its  time  is  the  period  near  the 
end  of  the  Civil  War,  after  the  great  river  was  opened 
to  navigation,  but  when  its  banks  and  bayous  were  still 
vexed  with  hostilities,  and  the  greedy  lawlessness  of 
speculators  who  gave  to  their  business  a  good  deal  of 
the  character  of  crime.  It  has  for  its  heroine  a  young 
woman  of  high  breeding  and  high  character,  proud, 
passionate  and  duty  loving,  a  woman  who  thinks  clear- 
ly, feels  strongly  and  acts  in  obedience  to  her  own 
convictions  without  any  shadow  of  fear  or  shrinking 
from  the  consequences  of  right  doing. 

"In  painting  Southern  romances,  George  Gary  Eggleston  is  at 
his  best,  and  his  latest  book,  'A  Daughter  of  the  South,'  has  the 
same  sweet,  pure  flavor  of  love  and  heroism  that  characterized  his 
popular  novel,  'Dorothy  South.*  " — St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

"It  is  a  charming  story,  full  of  delicacy  and  sweetness,  and  the 
picture  the  author  gives  of  the  closing  months  of  the  great  struggle 
is  well  drawn. ' ' — Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

"As  pretty  a  talc  of  Southern  chivalry  and  Northern  devotion  as 
any  one  need  ask  to  read  is  'A  Daughter  of  the  South,'  with  its 
picture  of  wartime  conditions  which  no  Southerner  who  lived 
through  them  will  ever  forget." — Milwaukee  Free,  Press. 

Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard   Co. 


BOSTON 


Cbe  Cittle  Green  Door 

By    MART    E.    STONE    B  AS  SETT 

Eight   illustrations    by  Louise    Clarke    and    twenty-five  decorative 
half-title  pages   by  Ethel  Pearce   Clements 

izmo  Cloth  $1.50 

A  charming  romance  of  the  time  of 
Louis  XIII.  The  door  which 
gives  the  title  to  the  book  leads  to  a 
beautiful  retired  garden  belonging  to  the 
King.  In  this  garden  is  developed  one  of 
the  sweetest  and  tenderest  romances  ever 
told.  The  tone  of  the  book  is  singularly 
pure  and  elevated,  although  its  power  is 
intense. 


"This  is  a  tale  of  limpid  purity  and  sweetness,  which,  although 
its  action  is  developed  amid  the  intrigues  and  deceptions  of  a  corrupt 
French  court,  remains  fine  and  delicate  to  the  end.  There  is 
power  as  well  as  poetry  in  the  little  romance,  so  delicate  in  con- 
ception."—  Chicago  Daily  News. 

"Tender,  sweet,  passionate,  pure ;  a  lily  from  the  garden  of 
loves." — Baltimore  Herald. 

"The  story  is  exquisitely  pure  and  tender,  possessing  a  finished 
daintiness  that  will  charm  all  clean-minded  persons." — Louisville 
Courier-Journal. 

"This  book  carries  with  it  all  the  exhilaration  of  a  beautiful 
nature,  of  flowers,  birds,  and  living  things,  and  the  beauty  of  a 
winsome  personality  of  a  pure,  beautiful  girl.  It  is  a  romance  en- 
tirely of  the  fancy,  but  a  refreshing  one." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  little  romance  is  charmingly  wrought,  and  will  be  sure  to 
find  its  way  to  the  heart  of  the  reader." — Boston  Transcript. 

Lothrop,   Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 

BOSTON 


MISS     BILLY 

A      NEIGHBORHOOD       STORY 

By   EDITH    K.    STOKELY    and    MARIAN    K.    HURD 

Illustrated  by   CHARLES   COPEL.AND 

I2mo   Cloth    1.50 

"Vf  ISS  BILLY"  deserves  more  than  passing 
notice  in  these  days  of  civic  improvement. 
It  is  a  story  of  what  an  irrepressible  young  woman 
accomplished  in  the  neighborhood  into  which  her 
family  felt  obliged  to  move  for  financial  reasons. 
The  street  was  almost  as  unpromising  as  the  celebrated 
"  Cabbage  Patch."  and  its  characters  equally  inter- 
esting and  original.  The  happy  common-sense  of 
Miss  Billy  and  the  quaint  sayings  and  doings  of 
her  new  neighbors  form  a  capital  story. 

"The  story  abounds  in  humor  with  a  hint  of  tears  and  an  over- 
flowing kindness  of  heart  bubbling  over  in  infectious  gayety." 

—  Boston  Herald. 

"The   book  is   sure   to   have   an  immense  number  of  readers." 

—  St.  Louis  Star. 

"The  plan  of  the  tale  is  original,  the  conversation  very  bright  and 
witty,    the    style   smooth,  and   the  characters  true  to  life." 

—  Boston   Transcript. 

"It  is  a  human  interest  story  which  appeals  to  the  heart,  and  at 
one  juncture  to  the  eyes  of  the  sympathetic  readers." 

— Pittsburg  Chronicle    Telegraph. 

"  'Miss  Billy'  is  a  charmingly  bright,  clever  little  story,  full  of 
spontaneous  humor  and  frankly  inspirational." 

— Chicago  Daily  News. 

' 'This  is  an  ideal  story. "-N.    Y.    Times. 

Cotbrop,  Eee  $  Sbcpard  go.  «  «  Boston 


CI)e 


of  Eittle 


By  HARRY  LEON  WILSON      Full  page  and  text  illus- 
trations by  ROSE  CECIL  O'NEILL       isrno  Cloth  $1.50 

"TTHE  BOSS,"  whose  title  has  been  bestowed 
*•  partly  in  jest,  is  the  editor  of  a  weekly  paper 
of  a  typical  village  in  the  Middle  West.  The  real 
hero  of  the  book  is  his  staunch  friend,  though  his 
rival  in  love.  The  story  is  told  by  the  friend,  who 
left  the  village  at  the  call  of  the  Civil  War,  returning 
as  Major  to  resume  his  law  practice  and  to  figure  in 
a  delightfully  told  romance.  The  humor  is  every- 
where present  and  of  a  very  high  order. 

SOME     PRE.SS      OPINIONS 

"  'The  Boss  of  Little  Arcady'  is  one  to  be  enjoyed  in 
every  page  for  its  genuine  humor,  its  sly  satire  without  a 
touch  of  malice,  and  the  story  of  love  and  friendship  which 
runs  through  it  and  ends  happily." — Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 
"  'The  Boss  of  Little  Arcady'  is  clever,  with  a  cleverness 
that  is  not  forced,  and  with  a  crispness  that  seems  to  belong 
toil  andwhich  has  the  flavor  of  spontaneity." 

— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"It  is  a  story  to  be  read  a  second  time;  if  not  wholly,  then 
in  part.  The  result  for  the  reader  is  one  of  the  best  things 
that  life  affords — a  book  that  delights,  quickens  the  sympa- 
thies and  revivifies  the  quiescent  good  in  one's  nature."  — 
Minneapolis  yournal. 

"Not  a  dull  line  in  it  from  cover  to  cover." — The  Advance, 
Chicago. 

"The  simpler  and  sweeter  things  of  life  hold  sway  in  Little 
Arcady  and  the  Boss  is  lovably  original." — Chicago 
Evening  Post. 

"Reading  this  story  is  like  living  among  people  whom  we 
have  known  at  some  time  or  other,  and  the  charm  of  the 
book  is  in  its  character  descriptions.  It  is  one  of  the  best 
novels  of  the  year." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co.  4*  Boston 


Judith's   Garden 

By    MARY    E.   STONE    BASSETT 


With  illustrations  in  color  by  George  Wright,  Text  printed 
in  two  colors  throughout,  with  special  ornamentation. 
8vo,  light  green  silk  cloth,  rough  edges,  gilt  top,  $ J.50 


A  N  exquisite,  delicious,  charming  book, 
as  fresh  as  new-mown  hay,  as  fragrant 
as  the  odor  from  the  garden  of  the  gods. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  garden,  a  woman,  and  a 
man.  The  woman  is  delicate  and  refined, 
witty,  and  interesting ;  the  man  is  Irish, 
funny,  original,  happy,  —  a  delicious  and 
perfect  foil  to  the  woman.  His  brogue  is 
stunning,  and  his  wit  infectious  and  fetching. 
The  garden  is  quite  all  right.  There  is  move- 
ment in  the  book ;  life  is  abundant,  and  it 
attracts.  It  will  catch  the  interest  of  every 
lover  of  flowers,  —  and  their  name  is  legion, 
—  and  will  delight  and  comfort  every  reader. 


Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co.,  Boston 


The   Potter   and  the   Clay 

A  Romance  of  To-day 

By  MAUD  HOWARD  PETERSON.  Bound  in  blue  doth, 
decorative  cover,  rough  edges,  gilt  top.  Four  drawings  by 
Charlotte  Harding.  Sfce,  5  x  Ttf.  Price  $1.50 


ONE  of  the  strongest  and  most  forceful  of  re- 
cent novels,  now  attracting  marked  attention, 
and  already  one  of  the  most  successful  books  of 
the  present  year.  The  characters  are  unique, 
the  plot  is  puzzling,  and  the  action  is  remarkably 
vivid.  Readers  and  critics  alike  pronounce  it  a 
romance  of  rare  strength  and  beauty.  The  scenes 
are  laid  in  America,  Scotland,  and  India ;  and  one 
of  the  most  thrilling  and  pathetic  chapters  in  re- 
cent fiction  is  found  in  Trevelyan's  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  during  the  heart-rending  epidemic  of 
cholera  in  the  latter  country.  The  story  through- 
out is  one  of  great  strength. 

Margaret  E.  Sangster:  "From  the  opening 
chapter,  which  tugs  at  the  heart,  to  the  close, 
when  we  read  through  tears,  the  charm  of  the 
book  never  flags.  It  is  not  for  one  season,  but 
of  abiding  human  interest." 

Minot  J.  Savage :  «*  I  predict  for  the  book  a  very 
large  sale,  and  for  the  authoress  brilliant  work 
in  the  future." 

Boston  Journal:  "  One  of  the  most  remarkable  books 
of  the  year.  Brilliant,  but  better  than  that, 
tender." 


Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co.,  Boston 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000126796     2 


